


The Weather Out There

by Tassos



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Community: trekreversebang, Episode Style, Gen, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-19
Updated: 2010-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 04:49:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassos/pseuds/Tassos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this was a trailer, you would see: an explosion - bright orange sparks lighting up the night sky; Sulu - held at gunpoint by a masked alien; the bridge - Spock and McCoy watching a solar eruption speed towards them; an industrial building - Kirk and Uhura running inside; a bar - Chekov facing off against Andorians; alien scientists at mission control; a jail cell; action; adventure; Star Trek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weather Out There

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art for Trekreverse Bang Challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/1067) by glockgal. 



> Written based on gorgeous artwork by glockgal for trekreversebang. Please do go and admire her work because it is amazing!
> 
> Beta thanks to wendelah1 and kernezelda who were immense help with this story. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Her ears rang. Head buzzing, skin scraped raw, a stray thought that she wished she'd worn pants today, while Uhura's heart pounded, he's got to be here, he's got to be here.

She scrambled over the concrete rubble, large chunky obstructions that littered the street in the wake of the explosion. Rebar from the guest accommodations that were now lying in pieces across the street reached out to trip her in the dark. The buildings still standing were silent masses, some listing, others with with walls splintered by debris. The glow of flames somewhere toward the central plaza sent flickering light into the night sky.

She couldn't hear herself shouting through the buzz, moving through sound as though she was underwater. Somewhere a siren pierced through the jangle. Uhura walked with her hands out to steady herself against the uneven ground, and that's how she found him. Instead of rough building material, her hand landed on flesh and the familiar fabric of a Star Fleet Uniform.

"Jim!" He was still warm. Please don't let him be dead, she thought, running her hand from his chest to his head. In the dim light, she made out his familiar shape and little else lying on top of some other debris caught up against a surviving building, one of the municipal buildings of the outpost.

"—hura." Kirk's hand batted toward her, and she grabbed it with her free hand as he sat up. Sticky wetness dripped down the nape of his neck, but he was shouting something in her ear, jerking his legs free of rubble, but it came out garbled.

"What?"

"Brabrabraright?"

Well, at least she was hearing sounds now.

Uhura shook her head that she didn't understand, and Kirk stabbed a finger at her and made the okay sign. She stabbed him back after a quick nod and walked her fingers across her palm. He nodded and reached out for her to help him up from where he'd been thrown. Uhura tried not to take it as a bad sign, but his feet were steady beneath him. He moved slowly and with a care that reflected her own aches that she too was ignoring.

She pantomimed a communicator, but when Kirk pulled his out, it was as useless as hers was missing.

Around them, Iogarth was in shambles. What yesterday had been a bustling outpost community was now blacked out and filled with chaos. The glow over the buildings was growing and with it the noise of the disaster as Uhura's hearing returned. The dust settling, people were running out of unstable structures yelling, confused, screaming over the dead.

Kirk and Uhura made their way toward the plaza with the others. The main throughway from the south was blocked by the fallen guest house, so they had to circle their way around through the workers' residences to the west. Prefab housing stacked three stories high lined the streets radiating outward from the plaza. As they moved through the other neighborhoods before cutting back toward the plaza, the buildings were still standing, their occupants on the streets, wondering what was going on. The Iogarth Outpost was home to around a thousand Bivans stationed there as part of the construction and scientific teams.

"Narrow blast radius," said Kirk over his shoulder. Jogging now, it didn't take them long to get to the plaza, the heart of the outpost, lit up by the fire that was spreading to the fallen guest quarters.

"Targeted, you think?"

Kirk glanced her way as they took in the scene. Behind the firefighters was the largest crowd of onlookers, most injured, most alien to the Bivans whose outpost it was. Andorian scientists were the most numerous since they were partnered with the Bivan government, a smattering of other species.

"The Minister said the dissenters were non-violent. That building that's on fire," Kirk pointed to the blaze the firefighters weren't bothering to fight with water, only contain by clearing the perimeter, "I think that was the power relay station."

"Solar storm," Mikal Vilena informed them when they reached the Solar Monitoring Headquarters, the main building on the plaza and the original reason the outpost was built by the Bivans. On the far side opposite the fire, Director Vilena was outside with her staff, field lamps lighting what the blaze didn't as they set up and started emergency procedures. The Andorian liaison was already swamped, and the small medical crew was about twenty people short for the number of wounded coming in. The guest quarters had been full; the launch of the Solar Ion Collector just a few hours ago had drawn representatives from every important political and scientific association from Biva and her allies.

Vilena brushed dust from the soft stripe of bodyfuzz on her arm, flicking her fingers so all five splayed out. A gesture of frustration. "We must have missed it off the secondary star in the wake of yesterday's flare. The shield was not prepared for the storm."

"But that one went into space. Would that still interfere with the sensors?" asked Kirk, glancing at the dark sky. Even though it was night, solar activity was still a threat to planetary bodies due to the curvature of the magnetic field that looped around from front to back. According to the briefing, the Bivan system had some of the most active solar activity of all inhabited systems.

To the Captain, Vilena held her right hand palm up in a gesture Uhura recognized as uncertainty. "It has happened before after a big storm, though never have we missed one from the Kill Zone. And we have never lost power like this before."

"Do you have back up?"

"A generator from before the plant was operational and secondary systems routing, but I haven't heard if they remain functional. The shield has its own auxiliary generator." Vilena shook her head and waved at the fire again, or maybe the situation around them. Her bone structure was not humanoid, and so more difficult to read, but Uhura knew frustration when she heard it in Vilena's voice. "This has never happened before. None are responding according to their drills. Your ship?"

Kirk shook his head. "Our communicators are out."

"And the ionization in the upper atmosphere from the storm would likely cause too much interference without a boosted signal," added Uhura. The very reason they were here effectively cut them off from the _Enterprise_.

"Hell of a silver lining," said Kirk, looking back across the plaza. The crowd had grown with more spectators from the intact Bivan workers' quarter.

"Silver lining?" Vilena asked.

"He means that this solar storm will provide you with a great deal of data on the ion collector's performance."

"Speaking of — are my officers still at Collector Control?"

Vilena gestured toward her people who were trying to organize the crowd, send the uninjured home, and get others medical attention. "This is what I know. Until the power returns, I can only send messengers, and I think they are safer, and your people are safer, to wait for daylight."

Uhura looked at Kirk who glanced back with a worried frown. "Captain, she's right. It's a twenty minute, fixed-line transport ride to Collector Control."

Kirk nodded. "Which was also powered by the nuclear plant."

"Everything with that runs an electrical current will have been damaged by the energy from the storm," said Vilena.

"And sending someone over land in the dark is just asking for trouble. I still don't like it," said Kirk.

Vilena was pulled away by an aide. Uhura elbowed Kirk gently in the ribs.

"Ow. Dammit, that hurt," he said rubbing the spot.

"We should make ourselves useful," she said. Standing still for so long had made every bruise and ache from being thrown across the ground settle into her bones.

"Yeah." Kirk passed his hand through his hair, his attention caught by the burning relay station across the plaza.

"Captain, what is it?"

"I don't know. Something." He frowned, then blew out a breath and rubbed his fingers together where they must have touched a cut on his head. The field lamps made his skin look sickly white and the abrasions stood out in sharp contrast. "It'll come to me. Right. Let's see what we can do to help."

Uhura should probably have first suggested they get looked at first by the medics, but Kirk was already moving and the medical staff was already overwhelmed caring for the seriously injured. Instead, she made a quick detour for skin sealant and sterile pads then hurried to catch up. They all had a long night still ahead.

* * *

"No one move!"

Sulu startled from half-asleep to wide awake in a heartbeat. It took a moment for his eyes to focus - Collector Control, two banks of consoles, five jubilant scientists manning them, and one Ensign from the _Enterprise_ that Sulu had been waiting for at the back of the room.

Six people stormed in, masked but Bivan from their long-limbed gait, carrying long-barreled weapons as they swept into the control room. Sulu's first instinct was to reach for the phaser that wasn't there - important diplomatic, sight-seeing mission - then to grab his comm and activate the distress frequency.

Not that the _Enterprise_ would hear it through the atmospheric chaos, but maybe the Captain or Uhura would. Sulu had all of about ten seconds to entertain the thought that maybe the aggressors hadn't noticed him before one of them rushed along the wall toward him.

"Away from the controls!" shouted the leader. Covered up, no features distinguished him from the others besides the fact that he was their focal point. "No speaking. Silence!" The scientists and Chekov, already clumped together, were pushed and prodded away from the workstations, stunned by the sudden attack into compliance. Sulu was shoved toward them.

Chekov looked frightened but not panicked, not yet, and Sulu shook his head, telling him to not to resist. Sulu realized then that, oh shit, he would have to take charge of the situation. The three Bivan and two Andorian scientists were all civilians who'd been working on the project here for years. They were now shuffling to the corner, confused, where the observers were usually sequestered out of the way. The Bivan attackers searched them, and Sulu watched as his communicator and Chekov's were crushed.

Killeya, the Scientist-in-Charge asked, "Who are you? What are you _doing_?" and was knocked to his knees by the closest person with a weapon before he'd even finished speaking.

"You will remain silent." The leader stepped forward as the Andorian scientist helped Killeya up, leveling his own gun at them.

Sulu automatically stepped between the leader and the scientists, didn't even think about it - he could at least be the first one shot - and tried to remember hostage negotiation training that he could barely remember learning. Flashes of holovids he'd seen as a teenager were just as helpful, full of people like the Captain rushing around saving the day by the skin of their teeth. Wouldn't it be nice if the Captain were there now? Kirk would punch out the man in charge, disable the rest single-handed and get them and science team the hell out of there, if he didn't get himself killed first in the process. Sulu wondered if his internal sarcasm meant he was panicking.

Right now, the leader was shouting at his people who were securing the building, but he wasn't so distracted that he took his eyes off of his prisoners for long. Two men went through the back exit while another watched the main entrance. Sulu didn't recognize the make of the weapons - they had an energy pack but he couldn't tell if they held phaser or disruptor energy - and as much as he wanted to, Sulu knew he couldn't take the remaining three in the room by himself.

He was going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Hostage Negotiation Step one: build rapport. "I'm Lieutenant Sulu, _USS Enterprise_," he said, loud in his own ears. "I'm in charge of this group. What is it that you want here?"

The leader seemed to take in his uniform for the first time, surprised by it for a second. Then he took two steps and slapped Sulu across the face with the back of his hand, sending him reeling. Chekov gasped, grabbing Sulu's arm before he faceplanted to the floor.

"Aiie," Chekov said, hands steadying and warm even as he glared over his shoulder at the leader who merely raised his weapon again. Sulu's cheek stung and he tasted blood.

"Silence." The leader brandished his weapon. "We do not answer to you."

There was murder in Chekov's eyes. "Don't." Sulu grabbed his arm, holding him back. "Ensign," he added sharply when Chekov tried to break free. Sulu watched him regain control with a deep shuddering breath, the Starfleet officer pushing back the outraged friend ready to get himself shot. His frank surprise at this new side of Chekov kept Sulu's hand on his arm longer than necessary, even as the little voice in the back of his mind hissed that it was all Sulu's fault. He told it to shut up when Chekov's fingers curled around his wrist in return and the anger he could see slipped into something closer to fear when his gaze drifted to Sulu's bleeding lip.

Sulu wanted to tell him that he was okay, that it would all be fine, but now was not the time or place, not with their new captors circling. Sulu pulled Chekov behind him, straightened his shoulders and stepped back between their captors and the scientists.

Masked, the leader's eyes were all that met Sulu's. "You will remain silent," he repeated slowly when he had their undivided attention.

"Please," said Sulu, testing the waters, and taking a quick step back when the leader twitched forward, this time leading with his weapon. Still, he didn't fire or otherwise follow through with the threat.

It took a minute for Sulu to realize this was turning into a standoff and that he should probably look away first and not antagonize the man with the fully charged energy weapon until he had a better plan. Or any plan, really.

The two who'd been off securing the back half of the building returned and broke the tension for them. "Slani, the building is ours."

The leader, Slani, put the one on the door and the other in his place on guard duty, then went to join the last of his people at the first row of consoles.

"What are they doing?" Killeya tried to follow him to the edge of the observation area, but was stopped by the other guard. The second tier of consoles blocked the view, but they didn't have to ask to understand what was going on. Why else attack this collector control station rather than the main headquarters at the settlement? The ion collector had been successfully launched a little over six hours ago, the darling Bivan invention that was the cumulation of five years of work and about a dozen technological breakthroughs. It's failure would be a disaster.

Slani and his people had come to destroy it. They started by prodding at the consoles.

"You must stop this!" Killeya shouted this time and got shoved back by the taller of their guards for it.

"Quiet!" The Andorians were unnaturally still and the Bivans jittered, helpless and ready to snap as they clustered around Killeya, trying to see what was going on. Sulu risked putting a hand on the chief scientist's arm but it did little to settle his nerves.

"We are ruined." Killeya's eyes fixed on the broad monitor at the front that hadn't changed significantly since this whole mess started. The ion collector was a huge dot in the upper layer of the atmosphere attached to a line that represented the transmission line to the surface. On the left were rows of numbers in Bivan Local that Sulu couldn't read. From the front of the room, Slani and his tech spoke angrily to each other, too low to hear.

"The computers," Chekov came up beside him, "they are locked."

"Can they crack them?" Sulu looked back and forth between Chekov who shrugged nervously and the other scientists crowded next to them. The female Bivan, Marni, Sulu thought her name was, turned wide, frightened eyes to him.

"They are simple release codes," she said in that tone of voice that meant, yes, absolutely.

"You must stop them." Killeya grabbed his arm, but then the guards were there, yelling for quiet and Killeya flipped.

"Wait, stop!"

But it was too late, Killeya rushed the taller guard and fell in a convulsing heap when the energy blast hit him. Sulu tried to get to him, but the Shorty guard was there, and only Chekov throwing himself at him and knocking him aside kept Sulu from getting shot in the gut at point blank range. He got a hand on Shorty's weapon though, the metal barrel cold under his fingers as he tried to wrench it away. It went off — or Shorty fired — either way sending an energy burst into the wall beyond them. An elbow caught Sulu's eye, pain flaring like a motherfucker long enough for Shorty to reclaim his weapon and clobber Sulu in the back, sending him sprawling. His head bounced against the floor.

"Enough!" The sound of energy fire cut through the fight. Slani stood on the console firing over their heads until they all huddled on the ground to avoid the blasts. The taller guard stood over the Andorians, breathing hard. "Time is done," Slani spat and then opened fire on the back tier of consoles.

A collective wail went up from the scientists, drowned out only by the alarms that immediately followed. Sulu's head felt like it was about to explode.

* * *

The bridge still bustled with the shift change when McCoy stepped off the turbo lift. He dodged an ensign eager to get gone and muttered under his breath about kids these days. Spock sat in the captain's chair reading a padd, seemingly unperturbed by the activity around him.

"Picking up another shift I see." McCoy crossed into Spock's space and glanced at the viewscreen. The primary showed the small planet, Iogarth, a dusty brown orb made hazy by the electrical activity in its upper atmosphere.

"I will stay on for another half shift, yes." Spock didn't bother looking up. "I thought it prudent since the ion collector has only been deployed for 5.8 hours. The first twenty-four hours require precise monitoring to determine whether it will prove to be a viable method of procuring solar energy."

"In other words, you're taking a break for dinner, putting yourself back on gamma, all because you don't want to go back to your empty quarters."

"On the contrary, Doctor, I find this experiment fascinating. Were I simply present in my capacity as Science officer, I would still remain."

"Uh huh." Spock thought he was smooth, but McCoy knew disturbed patterns when he saw them, and Spock staying on an extra bridge shift in the evening was unusual. Pardon, half shift. Damn fool was probably sleeping about as well as McCoy had been ever since the away team went down to the surface where all manner of things could go wrong.

Dry as bone, the planet's inhabitants were protected only by a shield dome over the outpost from temperatures in the hundreds by day and hundreds below by night. Virtually no communications because of the solar proximity. And oh yeah, radiation levels that would boil a person blind. On the secondary viewscreen panel showing the _Enterprise_'s rear view, the binary suns at the heart of the Bivan solar system glowed pale blue.

"Our radiation filters are holding," said McCoy. Ostensibly, the reason he was on the bridge was to give Spock his report. "Though I don't like how much Astrometrics been playing with them in their corner of the ship."

"Have any members of the team suffered any ill effects?"

"Not yet."

Spock didn't roll his eyes because he was Vulcan. "You already issued them a warning. I do not see the need to further hinder their work unless they overstep the safety limits, which I have no doubt you are monitoring."

McCoy snorted. Damn straight he was monitoring them. "Anything interesting on the collector?"

"A great many charged particles," said Spock, which made McCoy roll _his_ eyes. "We will know more when the flux rope developing on the primary star releases. It is oblique to Iogarth but it should still provide sufficient data for how the collector will handle coronal mass ejections."

This time McCoy arched an eyebrow at Spock who stared back as guilelessly as ever for several long drawn out moments. He didn't even sigh when he stood and led McCoy over to the Science station and keyed up a schematic view of the suns. Spock pointed at the tangle of arches scattered over and above the surface of the primary star.

"Convective forces of charged particles induce a multitude of magnetic fields on the solar surface." Spock traced one particularly large field line with his finger. "In turn, the magnetic fields can manipulate and twist the plasma from the surface into flux ropes." He changed the view to the actual surface where a large worm-like flame replaced the magnetic field line, writhing and curling in on itself above the surface of the sun.

"The coils store a great amount of energy, and when it can no longer be constrained by the magnetic field — "

"Coronal mass ejection," finished McCoy. It was all vaguely familiar in that boring, school lesson way.

"A consequence of which is a solar storm that carries charged particles into space."

"And toward that itty bitty planet."

"Planetoid."

"Whatever. Is it going to blow anytime soon?" McCoy squinted at the scale at the bottom of the screen. Okay, a hundred thousand kilometers was big.

"There is a 52.539% chance that it will eject within the next twenty four hours."

McCoy snorted again and stepped back to let Spock return to the chair. "Well that's nice and specific."

"Coronal ejections are notoriously difficult to predict."

"Unlike you who's going to stay up all night ruining your vision."

Spock was already back to poking at reports. "Should I desire to regard the solar activity without the benefit of shielding, may I remind you that I have a secondary eyelid that will protect my retina."

"Yeah, yeah, Vulcan superiority strikes again."

"Was there something else, Doctor?" Spock was getting annoyed. McCoy could tell.

"Yeah, dinner. I'll meet you in the mess at 2000."

"I must -"

"Spock, don't make me come get you," McCoy warned him. The man wasn't so stupid that he wouldn't eat, but ten minutes for chow after twelve hours on duty wasn't a break. McCoy was getting the eyebrow again, which he stared down until Spock tilted his head in acquiescence, lips pressed together.

A flash out of the corner of his eye grabbed McCoy's attention before he could relish his small victory, but the screen didn't show anything different. "Did you see that?"

Spock stared at the screen as well for a long moment. "I did. Lieutenant?" Two strides took him back to the Science station. One console over, Lieutenant Hannity's fingers called up screen after screen.

"I don't know, sir. One moment."

"Sir!" Ensign Riley at Tactical didn't turn but his voice carried. On the right hand view panel a schematic of Iogarth popped up. "I'm reading variances in the magnetic field." It didn't look strange to McCoy, but Spock came forward never taking his eyes off of it.

"Source?"

"The collector, sir. It's minute but oscillating."

"The flash was the activation of the port thrusters," Hannity reported. "They were online for 1.6 seconds."

"Current position?"

"48.9 meters, heading: 281 degrees, planet local. Velocity 1.2 meters per second and slowing. The transmission line is acting as a tether."

The bridge went silent as they all watched the magnified collector drift above Iogarth. It was mammoth, a giant array of flat panels pointed toward the suns. Beneath and hidden from view was the brain of the machine, along with the thrusters for atmospheric maneuvering and the giant transmission line that sent the electricity generated from the solar cells down to the planet's surface. The next generation of energy production, piloted on Iogarth. If it worked, the Bivans would adapt the technology for their homeworld, thirty-six million miles further from their suns to replace nuclear energy, which was fast becoming a non-viable option.

Finally, Spock said, "Run a full scan of the planetoid and the ion collector. We must determine the reason for the magnetic variances. Ensign Riley, calculate the trajectory of the collector when it reaches the end of the tether." He looked over his shoulder. "Lieutenant Garg, contact the outpost headquarters." He was as calm as ever when he turned to McCoy. "Doctor, it appears that I will not be joining you for dinner."

"Sir," Garg cut in. "I can't raise the outpost HQ."

While communications were bad with the outpost, until now they had been able to contact the Monitoring Headquarters on their more powerful receivers. The situation had just gone from hiccup to more than a little worrisome. McCoy grimaced, and the look on Spock's face was no better around the eyes. "I'll have dinner sent up."

* * *

"Any word on communications?" Uhura's hands were uncomfortably dry and she tried to ignore the cracking feeling across her skin after she tossed the rag onto the rubbish pile. Vilena was looking up at the roof of the HQ with a shortwave radio in her hand.

"We are still without power," Vilena said, glancing at Uhura before returning her gaze to the roof. "My first priority is regaining solar monitoring ability." It was too dark and too bad of an angle to really see what was going on up on there. Telescopes, Uhura guessed, and she couldn't fault Vilena for wanting basic monitoring in place by dawn.

"If we can contact the Enterprise, they will be able to report any changes in the status of the suns," she pointed out.

Vilena did look at her then. "I do have technicians working on the problem, but without power there is little to do to breach the ionization."

Uhura resisted the urge to say something indelicate. "You mentioned there are backup generators?"

"They are for the monitoring equipment only. They are hrad wired and there is no way to change that."

"I see," said Uhura. "Perhaps if I looked at the system?"

"No. I cannot allow tampering with the monitoring equipment." Vilena shook her head sharply. "And you are our guest; it would not be appropriate."

Of course it wouldn't. Uhura smiled tightly. "If you change your mind, Director."

"Yes. Thank you." Vilena dismissed her by turning her attention back to the roof.

Uhura enjoyed the view of the back of Vilena's head and quietly loathed being an honored guest. The past hour, everywhere she tried to help she was turned away because she was an honored guest. Only the Andorian liaison had welcomed her aid in finding his people, but now they were all accounted for.

Uhura forced herself to take a breath and wondered what the next step was now that the furor on the plaza had calmed down. At the relay station, the fire was contained and growing smaller, and everyone from the guest accommodations and other damaged buildings who wasn't dead was now either jammed into the clinic adjacent to the HQ or still milling about out front while Vilena's people tried to account for all the names on their lists. At one point the VIPs from the Bivan government had been ushered inside the HQ, but that invitation hadn't extended to the members of the Federation delegation lending a hand to the Andorian scientists. Kirk was looking for them and the Bivan equivalent of Mayor now. Over everything was a layer of soot and the smell of burnt metal.

Strictly speaking, establishing contact with the _Enterprise_ was not essential at the moment. Uhura understood Vilena's point of view: living so close to a pair of powerful stars made knowing what they were doing was essential to survival. She even understood their refusing aid offered by the Federation; the desire to fix their own problems, thank you very much, that was so common in young member planets. But the fact was the _Enterprise_ was equipped to deal with exactly this kind of disaster, whereas it was clear, the Bivans were not. The plaza was calm, yes, but far from organized, and Uhura recognized a dozen places where another disaster was waiting to happen.

"Tempting as it is, I don't recommend tearing your hair out." Kirk came up behind her. Uhura smoothed back the hand she'd set on her forehead to block some of the glare from the field lamps. "Spock would have to break up with you."

"One would think that would be your dream come true," Uhura parried.

His face was even grimier than it had been earlier, streaked where he'd tried to clean it, and his gold shirt was a lost cause. "And destroy all our beautiful sexual tension?"

Uhura knew she didn't look much better. "Ours? Or yours with Spock?" she said, grinning at the Captain's slight flush.

But he didn't miss a beat. "Both of course. So what's the story?" asked Kirk after a moment.

"Vilena won't let us in. Secondary generators are all for solar monitoring." Uhura did not point out the obvious that if the power was out on the planetoid's surface then the satellites that bounced the sensors in the right direction were probably just as useless. Their shielding was good, but so was the outpost's.

"Damn. This is a mess."

"No luck with the municipal authority?"

"'We are pleased that you would like to offer assistance, but you understand that due to your status as an offworlder we cannot allow you to see our emergency plans or the inside of our Headquarters that you were just in.'" Kirk mimicked the light accent the Bivans put on the second syllable of words in Standard. "It's like they want this to be a disaster. He couldn't even tell me if the nuclear plant was having a meltdown."

Oh hell. Uhura hadn't even thought of that. "We'd know about that by now, wouldn't we?"

Kirk only shrugged, which was about as far from reassuring as he could get. "Depends on the failsafes." He sighed, head resting back on his shoulders and looking as tired and worried as Uhura felt. It wasn't the Captain's usual response to danger and disaster, and it took her a moment to realize that she was waiting for him to giver her orders so that she could do something other than stand there. On feet that were killing her. Instead, he said, "Uh oh."

"What?" But out of the corner of her eye she saw it too and looked up at the sky. "Oh no." The aurora. Wrapping around a narrow point directly above them that could only be the ion collector. Uhura didn't have the background to be able to say what exactly was causing it, but she knew enough to know that at this latitude there was no natural reason for the aurora to localize above them.

"I think we just graduated from natural disaster to somebody screwed the fuck up," said Kirk. He twisted, scanning the sky. Uhura saw nothing but stars and the green swirl in the middle of the field of black. "I know science can be contrary but that is definitely not supposed to happen."

"Do they know?" Uhura searched her out but didn't see Vilena, just the milling crowd of people around them, no longer aimless but staring at the sky too, with the fascination and growing murmur of intelligent people realizing that something was not quite right.

"Let's find out." Kirk was already making for the main entrance. Uhura jogged a couple steps to catch up, tugging her uniform straight. It was a lost cause, the resistant fabric dirty and gritty under her fingers.

The Monitoring Headquarters was the oldest building of the outpost. Originally the scientists assigned to Iogarth lived in the dormitory on the second floor above the sophisticated machines that observed the binary suns. As the outpost on Iogarth had grown to include the power plant, the construction yards, and a whole new field of study on solar radiation and exploitative technology, more buildings had grown around it to accommodate the influx of workers and scientists but the Headquarters remained the center of the outpost. Four stories of solid masonry in industrial chic, the first floor held the bulk of the scientific work while the upper floors had been relegated to administration.

The main control room was awash in lamp light and scurrying people, the machines decidedly without power despite the promise of backup generators. Kirk told them about the aurora and asked one scientist then another if they had seen Vilena, but all they knew was that she'd been there a few minutes ago and now was no longer there. Had they looked outside or upstairs?

The stairs were the sticking point. Two security personnel blocked Kirk and Uhura from going any further.

"You returned." The embroidery denoting rank was impossible to distinguish in the glow of the single field lamp that lit the corridor, but the lack of enthusiasm was easy enough to hear.

"Yes," said Kirk impatiently but with a bright smile nonetheless, "but this time I'm looking for Director Vilena. She go this way?"

"You are not authorized to move to the second floor."

"Yes, so you've told me. Repeatedly. But is Director Vilena upstairs? I need to speak with her immediately. And don't," Kirk held up his hands preemptively, "tell me that you can't tell me. I need to speak with someone in charge around here."

The two security guards, both female Uhura noticed when they fidgeted in the dim light, remained solidly in the way. The spokeswoman opened her mouth a few times but eventually simply said, "We can take a message."

"Fine," said Kirk. "There is a serious problem with the collector."

"It was just launched," scoffed the one who'd been silent.

"Go outside and look for yourself." Kirk's arm flung out behind him toward the doors and beyond. "We need to contact the _Enterprise_ and find out what's going on. Now get me someone in charge."

It took a minute for Kirk's glare to sink in and one of the security officers to go get her superior.

"Captain Kirk." The Municipal Administrator was an older man named Hirn Sifo, portly around the waist with a rolling gait as he descended the staircase. He flicked his fingers in Kirk's direction, a movement Uhura hadn't seen before, but his tone of voice suggested irritation. "I informed you once: your aid is neither needed nor wanted."

"Are you aware that the ion collector is generating an aurora?" asked Kirk, tilting his head.

"Yes. Of course we are aware," said Sifo. "We may have limited power but we are not blind or ignorant. Observers on the roof have already informed us."

Sifo did the Bivan equivalent of looking down his nose at them. "Any other items you wish to bring to our attention, or can I go back to my work?"

Uhura felt her spine stiffening and sucked in a breath through her nose. Six hours ago she'd done the exact same thing at the party while Sifo told her that it must be so hard to be away from her parents' wisdom at such a young age. "But of course you are very talented," he'd said, setting her teeth on edge.

Kirk grinned, bright and false, the kind of grin he gave assholes at the Academy before he did something obnoxiously brilliant. "As a representative of the Federation, I would like to offer the services of my ship — again — since I see your monitoring equipment is not back on line yet. Regardless of your acceptance, I will need to reestablish communications with the _Enterprise_ to inform them of the situation on the ground here."

"We are, of course, doing everything that we can to reestablish communications with Biva and your ship," said Sifo. He paused, a clatter of feet descending the stairs above them. A moment later the Chief Constable and six security personnel turned the corner. Sifo, the insufferable man, did not move out of their way, forcing them to squeeze along the railing to get by muttering their excuses.

Kirk met Uhura's indignant frown with a subtle jerk of his head after them. "Excuse me," she said to Sifo with a smile. Under her breath she added, "I must go boil my head," in Klingon.

Outside, it was easy to see what had called the constable down to the plaza, and Uhura only needed a moment to take it in and rush between a group of stiff necked Bivan workers and outraged Andorians shouting at each other. The UT was all but useless in the cacophony, but Uhura didn't need it to understand the slurs and anger on the verge of exploding. She caught the Andorian demand for Ushaan as she ducked elbows and added her own voice, speaking in Andorian high dialect used by diplomats, to try and calm them down. The Bivan constables were having more luck with the workers by forcing them into restraints.

"Desist!" Uhura blocked one scientist a good foot taller than her with a glare. Surprised when it worked, she shifted it to the others beside him. "Inciting a riot is the height of foolishness." The crowd around them was an unsteady mass of faces in the shifting light, people clumped together under a low murmur of voices. With the Bivan agitators shoved back by security, a space opened around Uhura, and the Chief Constable joined her.

"I want an explanation," the Constable said straight to the Andorian in the lead. "And your names and domiciles."

"Our domicile has fallen in the street!" said the Andorian harshly. "And those creatures dared to suggest that we caused this destruction." His antennae twitched, an unconscious gesture of anger.

"Your name," said the Constable.

"Lanas, and I will not stand for such lies."

"Doctor Lanas," said Uhura as the Constable bristled. "I'm sure that those who insulted you in the confusion regret their words." She arched an eyebrow that said he'd better agree, her heart pounding in her chest because she had about as much power here as a rock.

Lanas regarded her coolly, then looked at the Constable and the workers his people had taken into custody. "I will accept an apology," he finally said.

The Constable opened his mouth — Uhura didn't know Bivan culture well enough to predict his response — so before he could accidentally step into a fight to the death, she said, "Thank you. I'm sure that in the interest of maintaining the peace, the Chief Constable would be happy to express the regret of the Bivans for being careless with their words." The Constable shut his mouth and shot a look her way before offering a terse nod.

"We, of course, do not believe that you would destroy your own building," he said with passable sincerity. "And I apologize on behalf of those," he gave the Bivans behind him a flick of the wrist as if to say, _not me, and mine_, "who have given you offense in their ignorance."

"See to it that it does not happen again." Lanas took one step back, and while his neck did not unbend, he did not linger, sweeping his fellows with him as they melted into the larger group of Andorians behind them.

Uhura let out the breath that had lodged in her throat. "Thank you, Constable."

"They never cease to be trouble," he said, watching the Andorians go.

"They were not the only ones ready to begin an altercation." Uhura nodded toward the Bivans being herded back toward the lighted area in front of the Headquarters. Security was releasing the restraints.

"In the absence of violence," the Constable followed her gaze, "I would rather not hold them this night."

"Of course," said Uhura. The message had been tunderstood anyway by the rest of the dispersing crowd. Vilena's people were back among them, pairing them up and ushering them to a billet for the rest of the night with more success. Many of the alien scientists, however, were going back to the Headquarters. The aurora was still bright in the sky.

"I appreciate your assistance, Officer . . ."

"Lieutenant Uhura." She flicked her fingers in a greeting of respect of a subordinate to one of higher status.

"Constable Molen." He gave her a modified flick that greeted her as an equal. "Perhaps you should find rest as well."

She smiled but shook her head. "We're still trying to contact the _Enterprise_. Until we have a timetable for restored communications, I must keep trying." She wondered what they were seeing from space. The intact radiation shield? The damaged collector certainly, Spock wouldn't miss that. He wouldn't miss a solar storm either, Uhura looked back at the sky. Not one so powerful that it knocked out the electrical resources of the outpost, even if it did come from a spot on the secondary sun that was difficult to observe with any accuracy. Without the interference from Iogarth's loaded atmosphere, the Science team on the _Enterprise_ would not have missed it. _Spock_ would not have missed it.

So why hadn't they warned the Monitoring facility?

"Constable Molen, how frequent are communications blackouts on the primary array?" she asked.

"Blackouts?"

"Times when there is so much interference that the signal does not send or receive from the satellite."

"I see. It's common during a storm like now, although we rarely lose power such that the signal from the nuclear plant dies as well."

"There's a second signal booster?"

"At the plant, yes," Molen gestured vaguely east.

Uhura did not like how the this new information was stacking up against the old. Kirk had not yet emerged from the Headquarters so he was presumably still arguing with Sifo, or maybe others from the Municipal Authority by now. He needed to hear this.

"Excuse me, Constable." She gave the leavetaking gesture and hurried back to the Headquarters. As her pace skittered into a trot, Uhura's mind was already scoping out the firefighters and their vehicle. They would need to ensure that the nuclear plant was not an immediate risk at some point soon. Uhura intended to be on that truck when they did.

* * *

Their captors shoved them into the break room, a tiny five-walled room with seating around a central table. The door slid shut behind the Andorian scientist who was nearly knocked off her feet by the guard. Sulu did a quick head count: three Bivans, two Andorians, and one Russian, all more or less in one piece. Killeya was alive but unconscious, his left foot twitching from the disruptor blast but at least they'd been able to drag him into the room with them. Sulu was the next most injured. His face felt pounded in and he thought he might have a loose tooth that he was trying not to mess with.

"Everybody all right?" he asked at large. One of the Andorians, Osar, pale blue with her antennae set high on her forehead, looked ready to go out and kick some ass. She — he couldn't tell if she was zhen or shen — went to the door mechanism, triggering it open. It wasn't locked but one of their captors stood outside on guard and gestured threateningly with his weapon until the door closed again.

"Trapped." Osar spun away, her glare glancing off of Sulu in brief acknowledgement. Pishan, the other Andorian watched silently from a chair in the corner, hugging her arms to herself.

On the floor, the other two Bivan scientists knelt by Killeya, checking him over. They murmured in their own language, too soft too make out. Not that he had his communicator anymore to translate.

Chekov circled the room, nervous energy bleeding off of him as the tension settled in around them. Sulu grabbed a gold sleeve when it neared him. "You all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Chekov stopped abruptly. He blinked up at Sulu, coming back from wherever he'd been. His eyes widened, though, one hand rising to touch Sulu's face. "You are not fine."

"I'm okay." Sulu pulled his head away. It probably looked worse than it felt. At least he hoped it did. His tongue poked at that tooth again.

But Chekov's wrist twisted on his arm until he was holding Sulu in place and the fingers of his free hand gently touched the beginnings of a bruise on Sulu's cheek that was already throbbing fiercely. Sulu flinched, but for the moment breathed through it, taking comfort from Chekov's closeness. A small frown line dimpled his forehead, unfamiliar except when a particularly nasty problem was stumping him in the lab. Sulu wanted to reach out and smooth it away, but he didn't, too aware of their surroundings.

"I'm okay," he said again, softly, almost believing it. Chekov it seemed was with that little voice in the back of his head that did not believe him, and furthermore how the hell were they going to get out of here with an armed guard on the door, get control of the station, and contact the Captain or the _Enterprise_ to tell them about their fubar day? Sulu was really trying to ignore the panic laced through all that. He was a pilot, combat trained. He was above panicking over something as silly as being taken hostage. But there was something decidedly not silly about being shut with five civilians in a room with no exits at the mercy of armed men.

He really wished Kirk were here right now.

Chekov's eyes finally let go of the bruises and met his. "You do not look okay."

"I am." Sulu took a step away because he'd had his moment to freak out and now he had to hold it together and get them out of here. He was fine, nothing worse than a good training session would give him. Except for maybe the tooth. His tongue found it again, pushed a little, felt the bright flare of pain. But he was definitely not the one badly off.

One of the Bivan scientists had placed a folded jacket under Killeya's head. Sulu squatted down beside Marni who had settled beside him. "How's he doing?"

"Well enough for now" she said. "He will wake in pain, I fear."

"I fear we all will," said Leilen, the other Bivan. He sat at Killeya's head, looking halfway between Vulcan stoic and terrified.

"We won't," Sulu said but Leilen and Marni just looked back, blankly. A quick check on the other two showed that neither of them thought much of his confidence either.

Osar hissed through her teeth. "And you will prevent this as you prevented this assault?" Her arm slashed angrily at Killeya's prone form. "We are lucky we are not already dead, in addition."

"We are not dead because our people are not murderers," said Marni harshly. "Even those who dissent would not slaughter."

"I thought the dissenters were supposed to be nonviolent all together," Sulu broke in. He had skipped most of the political brief in favor of the science, but he remembered that part.

"The failure of the collector must be more important to them than we realized," said Leilen quietly. He stroked the fuzz that ran in lines from Killeya's scalp down his neck.

"What will that accomplish?"

"What failure of government promises always accomplishes: a new faction to try their solution." His fingers flicked in a twisted gesture that Sulu could only guess meant frustration and angry resignation. It was possible he was projecting. "A new vote will be called immediately if the collector fails. The current leaders will be barred from entering their names, and the new power will decide the next course." Left unsaid was who would next be in power.

"They will destroy years of work!" Chekov's voice cracked. "Your people need a solution to your energy problem now."

"It is politics," said Leilen, another flickering of fingers, echoed by Marni.

Sulu and Chekov's eyes met, equally disturbed by the information. Earth's government was bad, constantly turning over, but it least it had its own longevity built in, otherwise nothing would ever get done.

"It is useless politics," said Osar. "It will break our treaty." So not just an internal political disaster, but a diplomatic incident that wouldn't be easily smoothed over. Sulu made an abortive move to rub his forehead — bad idea with the bruises adding to the headache. From what he understood in the briefing, the agreement stipulated that Biva and Andoria were to share technology and trade secrets if the Andorians lent their expertise and the Bivans their perfect testing environment for a successful project.

"So we must save the collector," declared Chekov as if it was the obvious, simple answer. Perhaps it was, but —

"How?" demanded Marni. "Look what they have already done."

"You said yourself they won't kill us."

But Marni made a slicing gesture with her hand. "Murder and opposition are separate items."

"And it has already failed," added Leilen. "They have already damaged the controls."

"No. We can still fix this. The panels damaged were not primary functions, yes?" Chekov was practically vibrating, that look on his face already ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room.

"What are you thinking?" asked Sulu.

"We must convince them to let us fix it."

If the noise that erupted from everyone talking at once had been any louder, their hosts would surely have come in. Sulu threw a worried look at the door, as Chekov flapped his hands to get the others to listen, talking about offering their services for whatever agenda they had and taking back control of the collector under the table. It sounded like something straight out of a holo, or Kirk's brain, and that thought was not nearly as comforting as it would have been if Kirk were here to pull it off.

"They shot Killeya for yelling at them," Osar's voice rose above the rest. "And you want to risk deceiving them?"

"We cannot let them destroy years of work. You yourself said the treaty between your government and Biva —"

"Dying for the sake of the treaty does not ensure that the collector and its technology will remain intact," Osar snapped.

"We must try!" Chekov was at least a foot shorter than Osar if you counted the antennas, but he seemed twice as tall just then. Fired up, ready to solve the galaxy with his brain, Sulu felt his breath catch at the sight. Not that he agreed with the plan, the spirit yes, but one surrounded by five wasn't good odds. Not with the look in Slani's eyes promising death sharp in his memory.

Osar, meanwhile, looked a step away from tearing Chekov apart with her bare hands. Yeah, none of that.

Sulu quickly stood, coming around between them, but before he could so much as open his mouth the door opened behind Osar. Must have been too noisy after all because Slani stormed in with two of his men, or women; their faces were still hidden behind masks. One immediately shoved past Osar and body-checked Sulu away from the others, a strong grip on his shoulder and the hard press of a muzzle in his back. Sulu prudently didn't struggle.

Slani regarded them all, the tension coiling through the room until he spoke. "I require one of you." He eyed Marni and Leilen who glared back, then the Andorians. Osar's antennae twitched, and even Pishan who had been relatively quiet throughout stood.

"For what?" Chekov asked. He had shrunk back into himself, the picture of terrified innocence. It was an act, all an act that Sulu had seen a thousand times at home whenever Chekov thought he was being clever and didn't want you to know it yet. It made Sulu's stomach sink because Chekov wasn't even looking at him, his wide puppy eyes were glued to Slani's.

"You are the science observer, from the Federation," Slani half asked, half stated. "We have no quarrel with the Federation. And the Federation has none with us." He made a flickering gesture with three of his fingers that made Marni and Leilen both suck in their breath but the other guard shifted, silencing them with the movement of his weapon. His own guard tightened his grip on Sulu's shoulder, and he didn't need to understand the non-verbal cues to see where this was going.

"No," he managed before the muzzle was used as a pile driver on his ribs.

"No one else need get hurt," Slani said loudly, focusing back on Chekov while Sulu gasped for breath. His side was on fire and the only thing holding him up was the grip on his shoulder.

"No. No one else hurt," Chekov rushed to say. "We can help each other, yes?"

Doubled over, Sulu could only really see Marni and Leilen watching Chekov and keeping their opinions to themselves. Marni met his eyes briefly but made no other movement.

"Her," Slani said, nodding toward the corner where Pishan stood. "And you. You will come with us," Slani said, another twist of his wrist accompanying his words, this time accompanied by the second guard yanking Chekov forward. Sulu caught his eye, still held out of the way by his own guard, still feeling shooting pain through his back muscles. Chekov smiled back, just a curl of his lips but enough to let Sulu know that he was going to do something stupid.

"Stop, no," but Sulu's guard dropped him to the floor. Off-balance, he landed awkwardly, which his back and bruised face didn't like one bit, but it was too late. The Bivan dissenters were out the door, Pishan and Chekov with them.

* * *

Uhura jolted upright out of her doze when the truck stopped, the great lumbering mass lurching to a halt that sent her reeling out of the smooth rhythm that had lulled her to sleep. Her head painfully crashed into Kirk's shoulder. Uhura was too tired and fuzzy headed to properly care that she'd fallen asleep on him, and while Kirk gave her a smirk that said he was saving it for later, he didn't comment.

"Are we there?" he asked the Bivan firefighters on the bench across from them.

The nuclear power plant that fueled Iogarth was half buried in the foothills of the mountains fifty kilometers from the outpost, proximal to the mountains where the waste was disposed of and a safe distance away from Iogarth should the facility blow. Fortunately, that didn't seem to be the case.

They tumbled out of the back of the truck, Kirk stumbling when his leg didn't catch him properly, stiff from the ride. Uhura managed with more grace, ignoring the twinges of the first few steps. Kirk offered her a hand to steady herself with which she gave a pointed look before moving under her own power.

"I'm all right."

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe I was asking for me."

"Patronizing me isn't winning you points. Sir," she said more out of habit than from taking offense.

Kirk reeled back in fake shock but didn't have time to say much more than, "I would never," out of the side of his mouth, his attention already on the three Bivans rushing to meet them.

"We have been attacked!"

The full story came tumbling out: sabotage that engaged the emergency shut down procedures on one of the reactors, disconnection of the primary transmission line although a second to the industrial park was still active but at a reduced load.

"Do you know who is behind this?" asked Bancel, the fire chief.

"We are missing four crew members, all from the most recent rotation."

The reactor was stable for the moment but the emergency shutdown had triggered a whole host of other problems. "What about communications?" asked Kirk.

"Also sabotaged. We are unable to contact the Monitoring Headquarters or connect to the satellites, and I have no one to spare to fix it."

"You do now."

The plant supervisor led them inside the bunker-like command center and left Uhura and Kirk with a toolbox and blueprints at the fried communications station. Three of the five walls were covered in panels for the running of the the exterior functions: surveillance, gross monitoring of the plant, a currently blank feed from the solar monitoring back at the main outpost, and communications which currently smelled of burned electronics and shattered casing. Someone had taken a phaser to the panel.

"Okay," said Kirk blandly, as they took it all in. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

Uhura silently agreed. The panel was a mess. "Let's get the power to this section turned off." It took them a few minutes to find the breaker and another few to study the blueprints and figure out what had been damaged. They started with removing the casing from the top panel, taking out the screws and then some heavy lifting that Uhura felt through her shoulders. She and Kirk stood in front awkwardly trying to lift it up and toward them.

"Got it?" Kirk asked when her grip slipped a little on the smooth material.

"Yeah." Uhura told herself to breathe. The edge of the casing cut into her palm. Between them they wrestled it off and got it most of the way to the floor before dropping it. Kirk let out a deep breath, hands on his hips as they surveyed the damage.

Bivan circuitry wasn't much different from Federation. Electronics at its basic level was fairly uniform across cultures: circuit boards, resistors, gates, wires. Uhura ran her eye over the cracked and burned pieces. They didn't have the tools or the time to fix even a fraction of the damage, and even if they did, Uhura was sure such complex repairs were beyond her scope.

"We're going to have to skip the interface and cobble together something directly to the transceiver." It would uglier but simpler. They wrestled off the front facing panel of the console on floor level to get at the guts of the actual communications equipment, the signal generator, and booster controls.

"How's your soldering?" asked Kirk once it was out of the way. "Cause I don't think I'm going to fit down there."

"Better than yours." Uhura shone the flashlight at the pieces below. Not as bad as the control circuitry, definitely workable.

"Hey, I'm not just another pretty face, you know. I did my rounds through the engineering core."

"Please," Uhura spared him a look. "You were Command track." And everyone knew that command track knew just enough to make it twice as hard to undo their work after them before doing it right. Kirk was smart and a good captain, but his cross specialization wasn't engineering.

"Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve," said Kirk airily.

"Hacking is not electronics engineering." Uhura scooted back and dragged the toolbox closer. What they were doing wasn't strictly electrical engineering either so much as rewiring and hoping they didn't make the problem worse.

"Who said anything about hacking?" Kirk moved out of her way so she could jostle into the narrow space on her side. Uhura just fit — her neck was going to get cramped before long though — and she knocked Kirk's knee to get him to point the light where she needed it. "I used to build personal vehicles and motorcycles and I worked with the computer components enough to know my way around the hardware."

"What? You had a life before being a barfly?" In front of her were about four dozen wires and cables that she carefully picked through looking for the leads to the transmitter.

"Had to pay for my drinks somehow."

Abstractly, Uhura had known that he must have done something before Starfleet. School certainly, but she hadn't really considered the particulars before. Kirk was always in the moment, always doing something in the now. Often something she found annoying.

"Pass me the wire cutters." She reached without looking and felt them slap into her palm. "And stop ogling my legs." Case in point.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He was lying of course, but there really wasn't anything she could do about it from this angle. But the light shifted subtly down to where her fingers were awkwardly removing wires from dead boards, so he was at least paying some attention to the work at hand. When she was done, she didn't have to ask for wire for the bypass of the fried controls. They worked in silence for a few minutes, and once she was comfortable that she wasn't turning the transmitter into a karaoke machine, Uhura's mind started to wander.

Who was behind the sabotage was the most obvious question, but the Bivan political situation was sufficiently complex for a planet of three billion people that it was difficult to tell or even guess which of the groups would launch a deceptive attack on the Iogarth outpost. The most prominent dissident faction was notoriously non-violent but it stood the most to gain if the ion collector, the darling project of the current government, failed.

She hoped Sulu and Chekov were all right at the industrial park. With their communicators dead in the rubble there was no way of knowing if they had been attacked as well, but if the power plant had been targeted then she was certain Collector Control must have been too. The sickening green of the aurora suddenly felt twice as ominous.

"We need to contact Sulu, too," she said.

She didn't think Kirk heard her at first, then he said, "One thing at a time," a tired edge in his voice.

A dozen thoughts danced through Uhura's mind. They should have gone to the collector station first. Made sure the others were all right. It was useless and guilt inducing thinking when there was nothing they could have done, not with the Bivans focused on the solar monitoring and blocking their efforts to help.

"I'm sure they're fine," he said a minute later, either comforting her or himself. "Both of them are good officers. Think well on their feet."

Uhura kept her doubts quiet. He was right, and getting in touch with the _Enterprise_ would get them in touch with Sulu and Chekov that much faster.

Once the connections to the transmitter were freed, Uhura wired the microphone directly. She'd have to adjust the wavelength manually from here but it shouldn't be too difficult. The signal booster interface was still usable, a good thing too since it regulated the inflow of power which would be dangerous to do up close. Kirk wedged the flashlight between Uhura's hip and the metal support beam and went above to thread through the wires Uhura fed him.

When he pulled the soldering iron out of the toolbox, Uhura wiggled out of the tight space below. She cracked her neck, sore from holding up at an awkward angle, and flexed her fingers.

All teasing aside, Kirk knew what he was doing with the soldering iron.

"Ground or air vehicles?" she asked while he worked.

He glanced up quickly, then back at his work. "Ground."

"You didn't want to fly?" Somehow, even the Jim Kirk she met in that bar had seemed like the two-hundred-kilometer-an-hour type.

Kirk glanced over his shoulder at her, about to say something cute and smug, she was sure. But the expression on his face had a layer of seriousness under the usual charming veneer. Uhura rarely saw it, only when everything but being the captain faded into the background and Kirk was wholly the man she would follow into hell and back. Yet this time it was different even from that.

"No license," said Kirk turning back to the circuit board. "Hard to get one when you have a record."

Uhura blinked. Kirk's hands were steady and the only sound for a second was the tink of the soldering iron against the wires. She was surprised that she wasn't more surprised. With his back turned, it was hard to tell what he meant for her to take from that. She was more surprised that he even mentioned it.

She said, "Please tell me it wasn't for parading naked through the streets," before the silence became too thick.

Kirk laughed. He always claimed that the infamous incident his first year at the Academy was a dare, but Uhura had it on good authority that his roommate had stolen all his clothes.

"Nothing so pedestrian," he said, grinning, and left it that. He set down the soldering iron and reseated the circuit boards. "Shall we see if it works?"

Nothing sparked when they flipped the power on, and when they turned on the transmitter, the meter showed a steady wavelength. Uhura adjusted it manually until it was on a Federation frequency, and Kirk spoke into the microphone.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_, do you copy?" He paused and static crackled back over the line. "Kirk to _Enterprise_."

_"Captain! This is _Enterprise_. We read you, but your signal is weak._"

"We're on a jury-rigged system here. We'll try to do what we can to clean it up," said Kirk while Uhura did just that. They only had audio for now but it still took a moment to make the adjustments.

_"Captain, Spock here. What is your current location and status? We have been unable to make contact with the Iogarth Outpost for the last 2.54 hours."_

"Yeah, we ran into a little problem down here. I've got Lieutenant Uhura with me at the power plant. Sulu and Chekov are out of contact at the ion collector station," said Kirk. He quickly explained the explosion of the power relay station and the power outage the Bivans claimed was from a solar storm they missed.

_"Impossible,"_ Spock interrupted. _"We detected no storms, from the secondary sun or otherwise at the time of loss of contact."_

"That doesn't surprise me," said Kirk. "I didn't get to the part where the power plant was sabotaged."

_"I see. I assume since you are speaking from that location that it is secure?"_

"Yeah." Kirk looked at the door, and Uhura hoped he was telling the truth.

_"The ion collector, however, is exhibiting erratic behavior and causing fluctuations in the planetoid's magnetic field,"_ Spock said. _"Given the circumstances I find it highly likely that Collector Control has been compromised."_

"Sulu and Chekov are good officers." Kirk shared a look with Uhura who had stood up behind him. "Our next step down here is getting to them. Spock, I need you to contact the Bivan government and let them know what's happening here."

_"It will be several hours before we regain transmission clarity with Biva,"_ said Spock. _"The mass ejection that occurred nineteen hours ago is still between our present positions."_

"As soon as you can, Spock. We don't know who we're dealing with, and I have a bad feeling about whomever is blocking my access to the other dignitaries at Headquarters. We got stonewalled at every turn."

_"I'm afraid you have an additional concern to be made aware of,"_ said Spock and while his tone was even, Uhura could hear the added stress that made her translate 'concern' to 'potential disaster' in her head. Kirk heard it too, looking at her for confirmation as Spock went on. _"A flux rope on the primary star is showing signs of releasing within the next 20 hours."_

"That's what the shield's for, Spock."

_"The shield was designed to work in conjunction with the planetoid's magnetic field, which is showing variances due to the collector's recent movements. Its presence in the ionosphere has already attracted sufficient charged particles that it has its own EM field. It was precisely targeted to minimize interference and intended to remain relatively stationary."_

And now it was out of position and under the control of saboteurs.

"How much time do we have?" asked Kirk.

_"Due to the nature of solar phenomena —"_

"Spock. How much time."

_"I estimate that you have a minimum of two hours before the odds are no longer in your favor."_

"Understood." Kirk's mouth flattened into a hard line. "Kirk out." He straightened away from the microphone, tense and unhappy. "Our day just got better."

They didn't have any weapons or back up. With the Municipal Authority ignoring them they had no local authority either. Kirk better have a plan. "Time to find another vehicle," Uhura offered.

Kirk nodded, already moving. "And a map."

* * *

McCoy had been distracting himself with reports when Spock commed him with the news. Kirk and Uhura had made contact, Sulu and Chekov were missing, presumed to be in dire circumstances, and there was nothing to do but wait until the Captain contacted them again. McCoy went to the bridge anyway.

"Attacked by whom?" was the first thing he said when he walked onto the bridge. Spock turned his head precisely, the barest hint of irritation on his face.

"Unknown. There are several possibilities, radical groups that oppose the current government. However, none have a history of violent action."

"Well, one of them does now." McCoy frowned, not liking it. The difference between propaganda and accurate security reports seemed to be a little thin these days. "Were they injured?"

"The Captain assured me that they sustained superficial wounds only, and," Spock raised his voice over McCoy's instant opinion on Jim Kirk's skills as a liar, "Lieutenant Uhura corroborated his evaluation. They are well enough to complete the mission."

"The mission to single handedly rescue Sulu and Chekov?"

"That is one aspect." Spock ignored his sarcasm. "The other is to ensure that the representatives of the Bivan government are not hostages to the propagators of this attack, and that the population is advised of the danger currently presented by the primary star and prepared for immediate evacuation."

McCoy raised an eyebrow at the Commander who pretended not to notice by glancing at the view screen. Was that all? There wasn't much detail in that little description. In fact it sounded like the BS that regularly floated between ships and Starfleet, in both directions.

"Sir," Lieutenant Garg said. "Contact from the planet."

"The Captain?" Spock didn't frown but his tone suggested surprise.

"No, sir. From the Northeast sector."

"On screen."

The picture was fuzzy — interference from the ionosphere — but the curly hair was instantly recognizable. On the other side, Chekov adjusted the view, eyes skittering to the side and back as he fiddled with the controls. _"Commander Spock!"_ he said brightly, their own picture getting through to him at last. Calling it grainy was generous, and the audio crackled, but it was a more or less clear communication.

"Ensign Chekov," said Spock, voice neutral, any surprise controlled before it could so much as flicker onto his face. "Your check-in was one hour ago."

_"Yes. Apologies. There has been slight problem here with the ion collector, which you may have noticed?"_

"Indeed."

_"It does not work the way it was intended to."_ Chekov's eyes were very big, and he spoke without his usual flood of explanations as to why exactly the ion collector didn't work the way it was intended to. McCoy didn't move, however. In fact the whole bridge crew was preternaturally still.

"Do you know the nature of the problem?"

Chekov's eyes flickered to the side again, to someone on his right. _"Badly designed, I believe. It malfunctioned right away. After several hours,"_ he added, quickly tacking on, _"The Captain was very upset."_

"I'm sure the Captain was," said Spock carefully and calmly. "May I speak with him? His last check-in, with Lieutenant Uhura, was very informative but did not contain many details regarding the ion collector or what is controlling it."

Standing off to the side, McCoy could only see half of Spock's face, but Chekov was shaking his head in short quick motions with his eyes glued to Spock in utter sincerity.

_"No. But I have a message from the Captain. Because of the danger posed by the collector, the guests of honor will be picked up early by the supply ship."_

Spock's head tilted slightly. "I was unaware that a supply ship was scheduled for arrival. The recent solar activity would surely have postponed such a mission."

_"It was _clearly_ marked on the schedule sent by Director Vilena,"_ said Chekov, laying it on thick. McCoy really hoped whoever had him there didn't understand sarcasm. _"You _must_ not get in their way. Captain's orders."_

"I understand. I will follow the Captain's orders as I always do."

On screen, Chekov's shoulders relaxed the tiniest amount, eyes finally blinking before something off screen took his attention again. _"Chekov out."_

The connection cut.

"Lieutenant Hadley, scan for the supply vessel." Spock turned from the screen.

"There must be something we can do from here," said McCoy when their gazes touched.

Spock's lips pressed together. "With the shield in place, Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Chekov are in the Captain's hands. We must find this ship."

"Which they told us about. Which is about the stupidest thing they could have done," said McCoy.

Spock didn't have an answer right away. Instead he crossed to Lieutenant Hadley's sensor station to hover over her shoulder. She gave him an irritated look until he took a step back but didn't otherwise comment.

"I can only surmise that they wish for their purpose to remain clandestine."

"By hiding in plain sight from the _Enterprise_, a Constellation class war ship? Do they think we use portholes to see what's going on out there?"

Spock's eyebrow twitched in McCoy's direction as moved back center. "Unlikely." He was pacing, McCoy realized, meandering among the stations like he was doing something, but really restlessly roaming from corner to corner. Kirk and Uhura were fine. Spock said he spoke with the Captain, but McCoy was really regretting that he hadn't been here for that. The difference between hearing Jim's voice and knowing what he said — and now that he thought of everything that Jim probably _wasn't_ saying, the dozen deaths scenarios he'd conjured up doing paperwork were back.

"What did they think we would do?" said McCoy as much to distract himself as Spock.

"Sir," said Lieutenant Garg. "We have a second communication from the planet, audio only."

"Put it through."

The audio was garbled with static and pops, punctuated by the Bivan language that the translator couldn't pick up amongst the noise. Spock turned his unblinking stare on Garg who hastily went back to his console to clean it up, doing his species's physiological reaction to embarrassment — a huffing flutter in his breathing. A moment later, a voice came through the speakers.

_"...in. This is the Iogarth Outpost. Communications compromised. Contact requested with ..."_

"Iogarth Outpost, this is _Enterprise_. Please repeat your message," said Spock.

Another garble and fizz that Garg attempted to clear up and then it was just static again. "Signal's too weak, sir. I can read it transmitting through the ionosphere but it doesn't break the exosphere with enough strength for our communications array to filter out the noise."

No one said it, but it was as clear in McCoy's mind as it was in the clench of Spock's jaw that Uhura would have gotten that message.

"Understood," was all the Commander said, however, and just then, Hadley gave them a distraction anyway. She found the supply ship and put it on screen.

"Are they crazy?" McCoy blurted out, arms dropping from where there were crossed over his chest at the tomfoolery he was looking at.

"While I cannot attest to their mental state, their chosen course appears to be most unwise. However it is a logical one should they be attempting stealth."

"Which they blew when they had their buddies contact us."

Spock glanced at him then returned his attention to the screen. "Then we must conclude that they did not anticipate our presence. Their path skirting the edge of yesterday's solar ejecta would no doubt mask them from the authorities on Biva and the outpost."

"Lucky for them it was there," said Hadley. The cloud from the coronal mass ejection that kept the _Enterprise_ from contacting the more distant Biva had occurred not even twenty four hours ago.

"Fortuitous but not entirely unpredictable," said Spock. "Have they acknowledged our presence?"

"No, sir," said Hadley. "They're still within the zone estimated for communications blackout."

"Better hope their shields are in better shape," McCoy muttered. He didn't even want to think about the fates of the people on board.

"Estimated time to contact: one hour and thirty-eight minutes."

"Sir!" The shout came from Hannity at the Science station. She said, "The primary star," and magnified the secondary image on the view screen to the main readout. The flaming coil of pure sunshine that Spock had shown McCoy earlier writhed like a snake fixing to get loose and strike. Everyone froze to watch it, Spock taking an unconscious step forward as it bucked and then burst free, filling the magnified screen until the Lieutenant readjusted the picture.

The light from the two stars was filtered out and the ejecta of burning plasma was huge against the backdrop — and coming right for them.

"Ensign, time of arrival?" snapped Spock without looking away.

It was coming for them _fast_, sixty-five million miles suddenly not very far at all. "Seven hours, twenty two minutes, sir."

* * *

Sulu didn't know how long Chekov was gone for. They had no time piece in the small break room, only the unsteady beating of his heart as he paced in front of the door. He'd opened the door again, but there were two guards in the hallway now, both of them alert and gripping their weapons tightly. One shooed Sulu back inside while the other shifted his weight. Sulu thought he could take them. Maybe. If he wasn't creaking as he moved and had something other than his bare hands to do it with.

"We can't stay here," he said again to the others. Osar had staked out the other side of the room to pace, while the other two continued their vigil over Killeya. Osar paused in her pacing long enough to give him another steely eyed glare. Marni and Leilen's fingers twitched. "We outnumber them. All I need is a distraction."

"And who will be the sacrifice to their weapons? You?" asked Osar sharply. "You are our only fighter. What then when you fall?"

"If you cover me, I won't get hurt." If the Captain were there, Sulu would go in a heartbeat. If any of his crew were there. Alone he was trapped — five walls and two people on the other side he couldn't get to without help. The scientists didn't want to get hurt, and Sulu couldn't blame them for that, not with their unconscious friend as proof of what a very bad idea it was to get shot at close range. Sulu still had a duty to keep them from harm.

"You have already been struck down twice."

"They had surprise on their side. This time we will. We need to draw them in, one at a time, then I take them out."

Osar was frowning but listening. Sulu tongued at his loose tooth to keep from rushing her. Even if she was the only one to help, that would be enough.

Pishan and Chekov had been gone for too long already, and all Sulu could think about was the last time Chekov had been on a diplomatic mission gone wrong. He'd come back bruised and triumphant, saying, "They always underestimate me because I am young." Chekov was brilliant — God, he was brilliant and funny and a million other things Sulu could not think about right now. He was brilliant and he knew it and he had been spending way too much time around Kirk; sometimes he forgot that he could be hurt, too.

"And what of your crewman if you do manage to survive? What of Pishan? They will be hostage." For all her earlier bluster and anger, Osar was as scared as the others.

"They're already hostages."

"They are safe as long as they do what is demanded," said Marni. "We have already lost our work. I will not die for it."

"They took Pishan and Chekov because they needed their help — your work isn't lost, not yet." Sulu spoke to Osar. "A distraction, that's all I'm asking for." She was still weighing him, but finally she nodded. "Thank you."

He didn't have his sword, but a chair would do in a pinch. Sulu grit his teeth through the ache in his side when he lifted it and took up a position by the door. Marni and Leilen were watching, worried, but they didn't protest when Osar started shouting about Killeya dying and doing a good impression of freaking out. She yelled and cursed and when their guards remained stubbornly outside, she went to the door panel and opened it, yelling at them the whole time.

The guards were cautious, Sulu gave them that, but also curious and as soon as he saw the barrel of the gun edge past the door frame, he spun, chair first, cracking the guard hard across the chest and shoving him into the other. He got one solid strike in before the whine of weapons fire had him dodging to the side. The roll jarred his bruised side and back. He felt the heat from the discharge go by him into the floor. He kicked out and the one in front tripped; Sulu wrestled him for his weapon while he was off-balance. The chair was tangled up on the floor, too; Sulu shoved it in the general direction of the other guard, bringing his new weapon to bear and got off a shot.

Hand to hand was often messy and it took a moment for the noise and weight on top of him to register. It was over. Osar stood behind the guards, a second chair in her hands, bright blue and beautifully ferocious.

Sulu already heard another pair of footsteps running toward them. "Quick." He jerked free of the unconscious — maybe dead, he couldn't tell — guards and handed her the second disruptor. "Guard this position," he told her, pointing at the door and Marni and Leilen just inside.

"But — "

"No. You stay and protect them." Osar closed her mouth on whatever else she was going to say, antennae twitching again, but she nodded. The weapon looked uncomfortable but not unfamiliar in her hands; she'd be fine. Sulu didn't have time to worry about it any case. As long as he did his job, she wouldn't even need to fire it.

The corridor back to the control room had two turns at obtuse angles. Sulu moved as silently as he knew how at a light jog on the inside wall, pausing at the first turn to let the footsteps come to him. He crouched, and when they were close enough, he spun out, aimed, fired. Breathed.

He scooped up the fallen weapon, took perverse pleasure that he'd just laid out Shorty of the jabbing elbows, and moved on.

There were no more footsteps. Sulu assumed that meant that his slim advantage of surprise was gone and approached the door to the control room carefully. He kept himself safely behind the doorway wall when he hit the button to open it.

Silence. Too much silence. Sulu wished he had a mirror to look around the corner without getting his head shot at.

"Show yourself," Slani's voice carried across the room. Not by the door then, but he didn't know where the others were.

It was three on one. Two hostages. Sulu didn't have many more tricks up his sleeve. The hallway was bare of anything useful, only giant schematics decorating the walls, peppered with notes.

"I just want my people back," Sulu called out.

"You have no say," said Slani, and there it was, the sound he'd been dreading. A sharp cry from Chekov. "Show yourself!"

Sulu had no choice. With Pishan in there too, one hostage was disposable. Gripping his side with his left hand, Sulu slowly extended his right, holding the disruptor by its barrel in the doorway. When nothing happened he followed it, bracing himself, slightly hunched. Directly across from the door but safely behind the last tier of consoles was one of the last three masked Bivans. The other, the tech, was near Slani the next tier down with Chekov and Pishan between them.

Sulu took a step inside. "I'm putting my weapon down," he said, bending over slowly. Then, while all eyes were on the disruptor in his hand, he side stepped, whipped out the second in his left hand and got a shot off before diving for the console in front of him. A thump thud on the other side meant it was now two on one, with two hostages, but before Sulu could even glance over the top to see what was happening, Chekov shouted, "No!"

Not good. The scene, when Sulu looked, was about as bad as it could get. The tech was holding Pishan by her antennae, neck bared but weapon pointed at Sulu as his eyes darted from him to his leader and back. Slani had Chekov on his knees, arm twisted up behind him, disruptor jammed to his back, and Chekov, of all the stupid things was still arguing with him.

"Let him go!" Sulu shouted to distract him from actually shooting Chekov. It was a regular Mexican standoff with too many deadly weapons trained on each other. Sulu was pretty sure he could hit Slani and dodge the tech's aim but he really didn't want to test it out.

"It is too late!" Slani yelled at him, the whine of his weapon's recharge ratcheting up along with the tension. Shoot or don't shoot — either way all Sulu could see was Chekov dead on the floor. He couldn't see Chekov's face, couldn't tell what he was thinking, what —

The front door exploded.

Sulu recovered first.

When the dust cleared and the ringing in his ears settled back into reasonable levels, Slani was down and the tech doubled over where he fell, twitching. Pishan and Chekov had collapsed together in the middle.

"Nobody move!" shouted someone from the hole that used to be a door.

They were late, was all Sulu could think, the adrenaline easing off. He could breathe again. Sagging against the consoles, Sulu did just that, taking a moment to rustle up the breath to yell, "All clear!"

"Sulu?" Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura edged around the remains of the main door.

"Hell of a distraction, sir." Sulu finally pushed himself upright and wobbled down the steps to Chekov, grabbing his arm, checking him over for any sign that he was hurt. What was he thinking, talking back to the man with the gun? "You all right?" He was almost afraid to ask.

Chekov grinned. "Yes."

Sulu didn't know if he wanted to hug him or punch him for that.

* * *

Chekov protested, but Kirk was insistent. "They know what they're doing. They _built_ the damn thing." No longer confined to the break room, the scientists who'd been trapped with Sulu and Chekov were back at their stations, trying to salvage the damage done to the ion collector.

"They are understaffed, and I can help," Chekov argued.

Beside Uhura, Sulu tensed. "I think Osar's got it covered," Sulu said with a quick glance at the tall Andorian bent over a panel with the Bivan woman. She'd met Uhura at the door to the break room with her disruptor and hadn't budged until Sulu came back and gave the all clear.

"And I don't want us split up," said Kirk. He'd taken the time to tie up the Bivan dissidents. Half were dead, the others were unconscious and hadn't woken. Judging by the Chief Scientist, who was also still unconscious, they weren't going to wake up anytime soon either. The first thing Sulu did when they returned with the others was rip off all their masks, but they weren't anyone the Bivans recognized. Thugs and canon fodder sent to wreak destruction.

"The people calling the shots are back at the Monitoring Headquarters." Kirk repeated what Chekov had just finished telling them about the message from the Outpost Headquarters and his contact with Spock.

Uhura wondered what was happening up there and glanced at the twice dead communications panel. She was used to being in touch with every part of the ship in a crisis, and now, cut off from the _Enterprise_ had left her feeling jittery, the uncertainty eating away at her. Both she and Kirk had hoped they'd be able to check in once they reached the station, but Sulu's firefight had destroyed what Chekov had jury-rigged together.

"Next time aim higher," Chekov had told him when he inspected the damage.

"Next time I'll just let you die then," Sulu had responded tartly, then stalked off toward the first aid kit, holding himself too carefully. Uhura had looked back and forth between his stiff back and the hurt on Chekov's face before glancing at Kirk who mouthed, "What the hell?" as bewildered as she was. Chekov barreled on, as if nothing was wrong, undeterred by Kirk's questions until he was once again demanding to stay.

"We must get more scientists here as soon as possible," Chekov tried one more time. "I can stay and help until they arrive."

"We're all going, Ensign," said Kirk, putting an end to the discussion. "We're leaving as soon as Doctor Osar can give us an idea of what the damage is to the collector. You can help her until she's ready, but I need you with us when we go back to the HQ."

Chekov clearly wasn't entirely happy about it, but he nodded and went to join Marni and Osar.

"How's that doing?" Kirk asked Sulu, nodding at the chemical ice pack he held to his side. He'd already asked but this time Sulu rotated his arm and shoulder and nodded.

"Good enough to fake it," he said.

"And the thing with Chekov?"

Sulu let out his breath slowly. "Won't happen again, sir."

Kirk slapped Sulu's good shoulder. "Good. You can sit next to Uhura on the ride back."

The truck ride back felt mercifully shorter than the ride from the power plant. They had borrowed a small ranger vehicle from the power plant whose anti-grav unit managed to find every rock and bump on the ground as it passed over the terrain. This time, Kirk turned them onto the fixed-rail train track for a much smoother ride back to the main outpost.

They arrived to find a flurry of activity. Workers were piling onto a half dozen trucks pointed in the direction of the power plant. Word must have gotten back, so it was no surprise when they were stopped by four security guards with their weapons drawn. Beside her, Sulu's chin came up at the threat, but Kirk immediately started talking when they were ushered onto the platform.

"We've been attacked, sir," said Constable Kerni after the introductions. His men formed up around them and escorted them into the plaza proper. "The power plant has been sabotaged. I can't tell you more than that."

"We know. We were at the power plant. We also fixed the communications there —"

"The Administration restored communication here too," said Kerni. He led them around the nose of another truck, this one filled with a mixture of security personnel and scientists. All of them were Bivan, Uhura realized after a beat.

"Look," she nudged Sulu gently, nodding at the truck. They couldn't see much else from the ground with people pressing in on all sides, but the absence of the Andorians was glaring. The security guards didn't give them time to linger, however.

Up ahead, Chekov was saying, "The ion collector station was also attacked." Kerni wasn't the only one who looked reflexively at the sky. The aurora was less pronounced now, but the sky still shimmered green almost directly overhead.

"Yes." Kerni didn't say anything else. Walking faster — agitated by the reminder, Uhura guessed — the Constable led them to one of the auxiliary buildings at the main Headquarters.

Inside it was crowded with non-Bivans, the inverse of the situation outside. Here were the guests and visiting scientists who did not have permanent quarters in Iogarth, refugees from the first explosion. Uhura recognized a few people from yesterday's launch party. Had it only been last evening? She searched the walls for a time piece but didn't find one. Dawn couldn't be very far off even though it felt like she'd been up for days.

"I'm afraid I can't let anyone into Headquarters," said Lein Kaffe, the Bivan liaison for the aliens when Kirk demanded to see Director Vilena. "The Municipal Administrator has ordered out all nonessential people because of the security risk. I can pass on your observations but you must remain here."

They were effectively under house arrest. "Are we under suspicion?" Uhura asked.

Kaffe flicked her fingers in a sign of impatience, a reflexive gesture. "We are under attack. We must suspect everyone."

"We have reason to believe that the Bivan government representatives are being held in the Headquarters by the people who launched this attack," said Kirk. "If they're still there then the people who did this are calling the shots."

"Your words are dangerously close to accusation." Kaffe stood to her full height, more than impatient now. "Our leaders are managing the situation and doing what they must to prevent more damage. You will remain here or it will be considered that you plan to do us harm." Her eyes held Kirk's then deliberately moved to the security guards who had escorted them in. The message was clear. They would not be _allowed_ to leave. Kaffe mustered up a pleasant expression. "Everyone is gathered in the bar room and there are refreshments for you there."

Kirk tried arguing, he tried threatening, he tried telling her that Collector Control had been attacked by Bivan dissidents, but in the end Constable Kerni prodded them into the bar room. The same room, Uhura realized, that they'd had a formal dinner in the evening before.

The high, arched ceiling was painted vivid red between the steel beams stretching from floor to apex. Globe lights gave off a soft light that left enough shadows to hide in — better suited for a bar than the bright glow from the evening before. The long tables and decorations had been cleared away, replaced with smaller tables that looked like they had seen much more use. The room was crowded with Andorians and a smattering of other species. Most had a drink in their hand, a few were sleeping in the corners. Uhura stared at them not understanding what she saw for a minute, unable to process how anyone could sleep through this disaster.

"This is bullshit." Kirk stalked past her, radiating frustration.

"What are we going to do?" asked Uhura because it was unthinkable that they just sit and stay here like good little visitors. Kirk was already scoping out the exits from where they stood. Inside, there were no Bivans on the doors other than the bartenders who blocked the route to the kitchen. It looked like they could just walk out at any time.

"Test the boundaries," said Kirk. He sent Sulu and Uhura to try the door behind the bar but when they reached the bar they could already see security loitering in the empty kitchen.

Kirk and Chekov didn't have any better luck. "They believe in guards but not locks on the doors," said Chekov, scowling at the main door.

"So that rules out walking out," said Kirk. "Ideas?"

"Maybe we should get a table while we figure it out," said Sulu, eyeing the crowd eyeing them.

"And something to eat," said Uhura, the sight of food at the bar reminding her that it had been a long time since dinner.

"Okay. We should refuel while we've got the chance. Chekov, how long before that ship is supposed to get here?"

"It was unclear, but several hours I think. But Commander Spock knows of its intentions."

"When it doesn't show up on time, our hosts are going to get nervous," said Kirk. "It gives us some breathing room at least. We'll take a little break, come up with a plan, go save the day."

As if it would be that simple. But even though Uhura knew it would be much more complicated than that, she had no doubt that that's exactly what they would do.

* * *

There wasn't much in the way of real food at the bar, but they did have plenty of drinks. Sulu looked at the alcoholic offerings even though his body couldn't take more dehydration at this point. He sighed and when it was his turn, asked for what looked suspiciously like rations disguised as pastries and a pitcher of purple juice with four glasses. Maybe when all this was over. Or better yet, when they were safely back on the ship, he could get some of Engineering's moonshine that would put him to sleep for a week.

Uhura wasn't back from the restroom when he found the table where Kirk and Chekov were going over everything again. Kirk looked ready to vibrate out of his chair, sitting hunched forward over his table, practically head to head with Chekov as he sketched something on the table with his finger. They both were alert, however, and looked up when Sulu set down the pitcher and glasses. Chekov looked away quickly, focusing on the pitcher, and Sulu couldn't help the stab of guilt that came with the stab of satisfaction. He should say he was sorry for earlier but he still couldn't shake being mad.

He kept his mouth shut. Kirk lifted his eyebrows but didn't otherwise comment, grabbing the pitcher and the first glass.

"Think of a way out yet?" Sulu asked so he didn't say something stupid.

"I'm thinking we start a protest." Kirk passed the glass to Chekov. "We get everyone in here to complain about being held here, cause one giant distraction, and slip out in the mass confusion."

"You want to incite a riot," said Uhura sliding into the chair next to Sulu with her own drink already in hand, some orange fizzy thing. "Are you pathologically incapable of not starting a bar fight?"

"Ha ha," Kirk wrinkled his nose at her. "Not a riot. But I don't think diplomacy is going to cut it here. Unless you have any better ideas?"

Uhura glanced over her shoulder at the bar at large. "Maybe the people who've been living here for years might know of another way out. Without us putting them all at risk."

"You want me to go talk to all of them? You know, I'm sensing something ironic here."

"You were going to talk to them anyway. You want to sit and wait while I go talk to them?" Uhura arched a brow at him.

Kirk opened his mouth, but then closed it again. "Yeah, you got a point there."

Sulu grabbed one of the pastry things. He really didn't want to go talk to Andorians right now. "Once we get out, how are we going to get in to the Monitoring HQ?"

"One impossible task at a time, okay?" said Kirk. "Those any good?"

The pastry was dry and crumbling, but Sulu shrugged because it tasted fine, sweet like blueberry syrup. He pushed one toward Chekov who accepted it cautiously. They ate quickly and in silence, but all of them were twitchy. Kirk swallowed his pastry in about two bites, casing the room over Sulu and Uhura's shoulders.

Chekov kept looking at him, and Sulu wished he would stop. He knew the awkwardness between them was his fault but he wasn't sure how to explain that he couldn't get the sight of Chekov out of his mind: twisted up, one wrong word away from being shot

Kirk took Chekov with him when he left the table. Uhura twisted to watch them go.

"I wonder if he'll try asking them to create a distraction," she said.

Sulu glanced over his shoulder in time to see Chekov bump into an Andorian and offer his profound apologies. "I'd really rather not get into another fight tonight."

Uhura took a sip of her orange fizzy drink. "We'll be fine. And Chekov's fine. You got to him in time."

He almost said, "I don't want to talk about it," but instead what came out of his mouth was, "He just threw himself out there," clipped and frustrated. "He volunteered to be their hostage and I couldn't do anything about it."

"He pulled a Kirk on you."

"Yes!" Sulu was as reckless as the next guy, but the Captain had perfected it to an art form and now he had Chekov trying to emulate him. "And he didn't even need to do it! I got out of the break room with Osar's help. With his, I wouldn't have had to put a civilian at risk. We could have taken back control and maybe we could have captured Slani instead of having to shoot him."

"He didn't listen to you."

"I didn't really have a chance to say anything." At Uhura's enquiring look, he clarified. "One of the guards was on me." Which may have been part of the reason Pavel had said yes, now that Sulu thought about it.

"You can't control everything on a mission," Uhura reminded him.

"I know." It was the first thing they were taught at the Academy and the last thing they learned. "I just can't get it out of my head."

"Why not? You've been captured before."

"Before, it wasn't just the two of us. Before, we weren't." He cut himself off. It shouldn't matter. He'd told himself a hundred times that it wouldn't affect their professional relationship, but here he was, falling apart because of it.

"Weren't?" Uhura prodded.

"Together." Sulu rubbed at his head. The headache was mostly gone but he still felt like a giant bruise.

"Oh. Well, that explains a lot," said Uhura, not unkindly. Still feeling embarrassed that he was embarrassed by the admission, he gave her a twisted smile.

"I don't even know if it's anything. We haven't really talked about it. But I saw him, when Slani had him, and it was like…"

"It's not easy," Uhura said when he didn't finish. "It's okay to be afraid. You didn't panic, you got him out."

"And every time he opens his mouth it's like he doesn't even know how close he was to getting himself killed."

"Maybe he's trying not to think about it." Uhura took another sip of her drink.

Sulu didn't have anything rational to add so he ate another pastry. They were sitting near the wall so it was easy to block out the rest of the room. He had no idea what time it was, but his body was telling him that it was well past time to go to sleep. Getting beat up wore a guy out.

However, the room around them was getting louder not quieter. Sulu heard raised voices, one of them the Captain's.

"He really is inciting a riot, isn't he?" he asked.

Looking over her shoulder, Uhura grinned. "I swear, we can't take him anywhere," she joked, making Sulu smile.

Twisting around again, he saw Kirk and Chekov in the middle of a group of Andorians and a couple of others, including a Tellarite who seemed particularly angry. Kirk was talking fast but he didn't seem to be winning very many friends. Chekov looked bright and innocent next to him, just like he had with Slani.

"For the record, I did my share of fighting for the night." Sulu picked up his juice.

"For the record, I don't think his plan's half bad. But don't tell him I said that," said Uhura, clinking their glasses. They both drank, both knowing that as soon as it got ugly they'd be at Kirk and Chekov's side.

They didn't have long to wait. Sulu didn't see what started it but when they turned around again, both Kirk and Chekov had their fists up, two Andorians and the Tellarite closing in. The spectacle had already drawn a crowd, loud and angry and egging on the fight.

"I guess that's our cue." Uhura took one last drink from her glass.

"It's not much of a riot yet," said Sulu. All the action was focused on Kirk and, of course, Chekov, who didn't look trapped or helpless at all, such a contrast to earlier, that Sulu could only stare. Chekov was still fearless, still bright and alive. The Andorians mostly yelled at him while Kirk fended off the more aggressive Tellarite. A few punches, a dodge, then a solid hit on Kirk's shoulder. Chekov yelled back at the Andorians.

Uhura pushed her way through the edge of the crowd, Sulu slipping into the gap behind her. As they reach the Captain and Chekov, the crowd on the other side was forced to disperse when Bivan security rushed in to break up the disturbance. The Andorians were now yelling at the Bivans and soon they were all being rounded up, separated from the crowd. Sulu and Uhura practically had to throw themselves on security to get themselves taken in with Kirk and Chekov, but soon they were all shuffled out, along with the two Andorians and the Tellarite.

"Was getting arrested and thrown in a cell part of the plan, Captain?" asked Uhura.

"You should never doubt me, Uhura," said Kirk, twisting in his restraints to try to face her. "Look where they're taking us."

In front of them, the Monitoring HQ doors were opened as the Constables marched them inside and up the stairs. The glow from the emergency lights cast blue shadows. Law Enforcement was down the right-hand hallway, and behind the administrative area, several cells were already hosting a half dozen people. The four of them were put into their own cell.

"And here we are, locked up again." Chekov sighed when the door closed behind them. The bottom half was solid while the top half was transparent aluminum. No force fields here; someone had put some thought into building design in case of a power outage. "Very securely." Chekov rapped his knuckles on the door.

"Yes, but we're already past their best defenses," said Kirk brightly.

Sulu made for the bench across the back wall with Uhura and watched Kirk peer out the window down the hall. The tenor of his energy had shifted from pent-up-frustration to waiting-to-spring. He waved to the Andorians across the hall and started calling for someone to come talk to them. Sulu pitied the man in charge.

"You had no idea this was going to happen, did you?" he said.

Kirk threw him a quick grin over his shoulder. "No idea."

* * *

"Well, I could help them at the power plant get a more efficient output with what they have working, but without being able to directly speak to the scientists who built the collector — and a nice piece of work that is — I'm not sure I'll be much help with that problem." Scotty shrugged, an apology in his eyes.

Spock's facial expression didn't change much; he probably already knew the answer since he had his people already working on the problem around the clock. Not being able to initiate contact with any part of the outpost was fast becoming the sticking point for any solution to the problems that they faced. Not to mention leaving everyone up in the air worried about what was happening on the ground.

"Spock, those veggies won't eat themselves," said McCoy, resisting the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

The expression that elicited was clear enough, but really, Spock did not have a chance at getting McCoy to cave. The Commander had promised him twenty minutes in the mess to eat while they waited on the next round of reports and the arrival of the quite likely hostile ship. Spock, naturally had asked Scotty to join them so he could grill him for any more ideas.

The Science team was already relaying observations to the Bivans at the power plant who said they would pass them on to the folks at the collector. Of course, there were still no real answers to who was in charge down there, where Jim and Uhura had gone to, or if Sulu and Chekov were even still alive. The main outpost had been disturbingly quiet through all this except for one message passed on to the power plant that asked about the ETA of their mysterious ship. For a Vulcan, Spock was getting damned good at lying through his teeth.

Spock dutifully picked up his fork and knife, however, and cut one precise bite of whatever it was he was eating. It looked vaguely like eggplant, but McCoy didn't care beyond the fact that Spock was eating something other than a nutrition bar.

"I impressed upon them the urgency of the situation and the need to evacuate as a precautionary method, but the Bivans are reluctant to act without permission from their leaders." Spock cut a second very precise bite, chewed it. "All of our simulations predict a 97.43% chance that the shield will fail given the current state of the magnetic field."

"Stubborn idiots," muttered McCoy.

"I believe it is a matter of insufficient authority and leadership on the scene. Coupled with the paucity of data from their own instruments, their actions, or lack thereof, while not logical are, I believe you would say, understandable." The knife scraped across Spock's plate as he cut his poor vegetables with more force than strictly necessary.

"What are the odds of failure if they do get the collector back where it's supposed to be?" asked Scotty.

"78.53%," said Spock. "There is increased uncertainty for relocating it in its precise position, the charge it currently carries, and the ripple effect of the variances already in effect. These are not odds I wish to risk for the population."

"Sounds like we need a plan B," said McCoy.

"Aye," Scotty agreed. "The ejection is not on a direct path to the wee planet. I might be able to rig something up with the deflector shield to nudge it a bit more off course."

"We will not be able to completely alter the course of the storm without directing it into Biva's path."

"But enough to avoid overwhelming their shield?"

Spock looked thoughtful and not entirely convinced. "We will add it to the simulator rotation."

McCoy frowned, not liking the sound of using the shields that normally protected the _Enterprise_ from attack. With the tumble of energy coming for them the equivalent of a hundred thousand phasers firing at them all at once he didn't expect they'd last long. "How close would the _Enterprise_ need to be to do this?"

"I won't be putting us in the way of that monster," said Scotty with a quick shake of his head, "but we'd probably need to be closer than you're comfortable with. It'll depend on what me and my boys and girls come up with."

"If it is possible," said Spock, "the sooner we enact such a plan, the angle of deflection necessary will be smaller and thus easier to implement." It took a moment for McCoy to run through the geometry in his head: like opening a door, a smaller change at the hinges would move the knob the same distance as a larger movement at the middle.

"Bridge to Commander Spock."

"Spock here."

And there went dinner, McCoy thought, as he watched Spock stand and stride out the door before Riley even finished telling him the ship had made contact.

Scotty was also watching him go, his normally cheery disposition turned somber. "Any more word from the Captain?" he asked.

McCoy shook his head. "Nothing. We're taking the no news is good news approach with this one." He fiddled with his fork, not really hungry anymore. By all rights he should be asleep, just like the half of the damn ship voluntarily pulling a double shift on this one.

"Well, he has a knack for pulling through. Though, normally we don't have quite this many baubles in the air." Scotty stood, offering him a smile that didn't quite drive away the worry in his eyes. "Well, I'm off. Miracle to manufacture and all that." He wrapped the rest of his sandwich in his napkin.

"Yeah." McCoy stood too, and walked with Scotty until their paths diverged, him for engineering, McCoy for the bridge. He wanted to hear what those crazy Bivans thought they were doing navigating the edge of a solar storm.

Spock was already talking to the Bivan captain. "Until we ascertain the extent of the sabotage and have confirmation that the beings responsible have been apprehended, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to interfere."

The Bivan on screen moved his arm, making one of those infamous gestures that McCoy hadn't bothered learning, clearly signifying his irritation. _"We have our orders to pick up the honorable members of the Bivan government and conduct them to safety. The Federation has no right to interfere with this. You cannot stop us."_

"On the contrary," said Spock, all teeth. "Since the Iogarth Outpost is in a state of emergency, until I have received confirmation of these orders, I am at liberty to prevent your access if I have a reasonable doubt as to the legitimacy of your mission, pursuant to Starfleet Regulation." He paused. "As soon as our communications with Biva have been restored, I'm sure we will clear this matter up."

The Bivan captain remained silent. The unspoken, _in the meantime, my ship is bigger than yours_ lay heavy in the short parcel of space between them.

_"You will regret this,"_ he finally said.

"I sincerely doubt that. Spock out." The communication terminated. "Lieutenant, what is their maximum speed and maneuvering capability?"

"Think they'll try and pull a runner?" asked McCoy.

"I would not put it past them."

As Spock and Hadley nattered about speed and tactics and phaser patterns, McCoy stared at the view screen: the supply ship on the primary, small and insignificant against the stars; Iogarth still looking like a dusty sphere on the secondary, the outpost barely on the dark side of the terminator; and on the rear view, the glowing storm cloud growing ever closer. Too many baubles was right.

* * *

Uhura was ready to start throwing things at Kirk's head if he didn't stop banging on the door. Obnoxious didn't begin to cover it. Beside her, Sulu had closed his eyes, but she felt his tension where their shoulders touched.

"I need to speak to someone in charge around here!" Kirk called out again. So far he'd only been able to get the other prisoners to yell abuse at them and a couple of the security guards to come and tell him to shut up.

"Maybe you should tell them one of us is sick," suggested Chekov. He sat on the floor to Uhura's left with his knees held up to his chest. He darted a look Sulu's way but wisely didn't say anything.

"I don't think they'd buy it at this point," said Kirk.

"I could break your hand by accident," said Sulu without opening his eyes.

"I'll pass, thanks."

But thankfully they could hear someone coming, which of course made Kirk yell louder.

It was hard to tell in the bad light, but Uhura thought she recognized the voice of the Chief Constable, Molen.

"Captain Kirk," he said after retracting the transparent section of the door. "Lieutenant Uhura." He gestured a greeting to both of them. "I was surprised to learn that you were causing a disturbance."

"You have my deepest apologies," said Kirk in his best diplomatic voice. "Is there any chance of you letting us out of here? I have something we need to discuss, in private."

Molen made a gesture that Uhura did not recognize, looking between them both. "Tell me, were you successful in reestablishing communications with your ship?"

"Yes," said Uhura, standing. "We were."

"Then I believe we will have an interesting conversation."

Constable Molen led them to his office amid protests from the other prisoners which he ignored. After sending two of his people for extra chairs, he began without preamble.

"I did not know until I spoke with Lein Kaffe that Collector Control had been attacked," he said. "But it does not surprise me. Soon after you left to go to the power plant, Director Vilena went to speak with Sifo and did not return to the monitoring control room. She has sent her instructions by messenger. I sent one of my officers to look for her and he did not return. Instead, Sifo came to me and explained that I was needed among the people to keep violence minimized and ensure that repairs went smoothly. He was not subtle in his choice of words."

"They're hostages," said Kirk grimly. "We suspected as much."

Molen flickered his fingers in agreement. "Sifo and his people planned very well. There is no way to take the third floor."

Uhura didn't know what Kirk had been planning — they'd been winging it all night — but this news made his brow furrow. "At all? What about sneaking in?" Kirk asked.

"They chose a defensible room. The only way past is with their approval. They sent messengers but now that short range communications has been restored, they do not venture out." Molen tapped his desk. "They sit and wait, but I am not certain what they wait for. I do know they sent a message to the power plant for your ship."

"They are waiting for their ship," said Chekov leaning forward excitedly.

"Your ship."

"No, their ship that is coming here, to Iogarth. They had me send a message to Spock to let it past."

"But don't worry, Spock won't let them get too close," said Kirk.

"What's the state of the transporter station?" asked Sulu.

Molen looked from one to the other, not quite following. "When the shield defaults to the secondary generator, the transporter field cannot be taken down."

"So it has to be back on the grid from the power plant for anyone to transport off the planet?" Uhura clarified. Sulu and Kirk were looking at each other and having a silent conversation that she wasn't following either. A slow smile slid onto Kirk's face.

"The timing, yes, it would have to be exact," said Chekov joining in. "But it's possible."

"What is it?" asked Molen.

"They're waiting for a ship to pick them up," said Kirk. "We have a ship. What's the status of the communications array here?"

"Functional, but not under my control. It has not been a priority. Would your ship be able to convince them they are their own allies?"

"All they need is a message to work with," said Uhura, looking at Kirk, ideas sliding into place.

The Captain nodded, a grin forming.  
"Nothing Spock can't handle. Hell, he's probably already thought of it."

Molen thought it over then stood and gestured for them to follow him into the corridor. "Then we must do it."

He led them through the administration area to a small corridor away from the cells that had several doors clearly labeled. Storage, Uhura supposed, even though she didn't recognize the Bivan words. Molen stopped at the last door on the right and opened the panel for the mechanical override. Not a storage room, Uhura saw as soon as the door opened. The armory. All the weaponry was for nonlethal crowd control, but as Molen passed out the stun-only phasers and Sulu grabbed a baton and shield, she knew it would be more than enough.

"You can use a sword and shield?" Chekov's surprise was enough to overcome the tension between the two. Sulu even shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, a little embarrassed.

"I went through a Medieval period," he explained, hoisting it under his arm like a giant padd.

Kirk didn't give them time to linger. He put Uhura and Chekov behind him and Sulu and signaled to Molen to lead on.

The communications center was on the first floor behind the main monitoring room and served as the nerve center for relaying messages throughout the outpost. "The focus has been to restore monitoring," Molen explained as they passed by the very busy main room the back of the building. "The secondary generator did not immediately come online and they have been busy restarting the computers, but your ship has been in contact through their contact with the power plant and will aid in the recalibration. I understand, however, that there is little to be done about the storm until the power plant is operational again."

"Storm?" Kirk dodged around a scientist who appeared in their path. "You mean the one on the primary sun?

"Yes. Your ship did not tell you?"

"They said we had two hours before it blew."

Molen spun his hand around, a quick no. "The solar flare occurred three hours ago. It will be here in another four."

"It will cross the distance in seven hours?" Chekov jogged a step to come up beside Molen.

"That's bad, right?" asked Kirk.

"Yes! The energy to achieve such a velocity must immense."

"We are nearly there," said Molen, cutting off the numbers that Chekov started to rattle off.

They arrived at a major junction splitting off in four other directions. The two branches that led toward the monitoring room were bustling, as was the corridor directly opposite them. Molen led them down one of the less trafficked corridors. At the far end, two Bivans were loitering outside a closed industrial sized door.

Molen waved off Kirk's question. "When we reach the intersection, they will know our intended destination. Sifo ordered out most people from this section." Molen spoke softly, head tilted towards Kirk as if he didn't care one bit about the Bivans at the end of the hall. The intersection was five meters away.

"We'll take these two." Kirk held his phaser in his hand like he was palming an instrument of some kind. "Sulu, be ready for whoever comes out that door. Chekov, Uhura, you've got our backs. We might not have much time before they signal for help."

Uhura resisted the urge to check the hallway behind them. She held her own phaser loosely behind her back, and as they grew closer to the intersection, she tightened her grip. With Chekov, she slowed her pace, watching Kirk's shoulders, half an eye on the Bivans ahead who straightened as they took notice of their approach.

Kirk and Molen didn't give them a chance to even decide whether to talk or draw. Then Uhura couldn't see past Sulu's shield. Just past the intersection, she flattened herself against the wall, Chekov across from her, and focused on the corridor over his shoulder. The phasers weren't noisy and no one was around to hear. They heard a few more exchanges of phaser fire, but Sulu's shield seemed to do its work because Kirk called the all clear a few seconds later.

The communications array was bigger than the one at the power plant and in much better shape. Several functions were not initialized including the signal booster, which probably drew too much power, but it was connected to the power plant whose feed showed in the top monitor. On one side were a pair of Bivan engineers in their communications room, one half out of view as he maintained the signal. It looked like they had cobbled together a work-around for Uhura's earlier work. The other side of the screen showed two engineers crowded in front of the view from the _Enterprise_.

A second feed from the receiving array was also engaged although it was not currently active.

Uhura took the chair Sulu was vacating of its previous occupant. Tapping into the feed was much easier than connecting to the _Enterprise_ from the power plant. "Iogarth Power Plant, this is Lieutenant Uhura at the Monitoring Headquaters."

The feed crackled but held. "Lieutenant." The Bivan on the other end flicked his fingers in greeting. Uhura returned the gesture, and said, "I apologize for the interruption but we need to speak with Commander Spock on the _Enterprise_. Could you connect us?"

While they waited for the power plant to connect them, Sulu and Chekov continued securing the unconscious dissident Bivans while Molen spoke with his people on his short range communicator and Kirk hovered. One of the communicators taken from the dissidents sputtered but no voice came through.

"I think our clock just started ticking," said Kirk fixing his eyes on the screen.

"What happens when they run into the Constables?" she asked.

"Molen's having them report a fire down here."

"A fire?" Uhura actually turned at that, but Kirk was serious.

"It's plausible."

The view screen flickered, so she couldn't point out that a fire, logically, would mean that more people not less would be sent their way.

"Spock!" Kirk crowded in next to her as soon as the bridge flickered into life.

_"Captain."_ Spock blinked, startled by the sudden greeting. His eyes found Uhura who couldn't help the smile at finally being able to see him. He nodded, as proper as he always was on duty, but Uhura could see the softening of his shoulders and the small pause before he returned his attention to Kirk.

"Guess what?" Kirk said. Uhura slid out of her seat so he could sit down. "We have a plan, but we don't have a lot of time."

_"Since the likelihood of finding ourselves in this predicament is often in the eighty-fifth percentile, that would have been my first guess,"_ said Spock.

"Eighty-fifth?"

Spock arched an eyebrow. _"We also occasionally find ourselves with little time and no plan. But in this case, I believe the appropriate phrase is, lay it on me."_

* * *

"What the hell happened down there?" was the first thing out of McCoy's mouth when Spock signed off. Kirk and Uhura were a collective mess. They'd obviously tried to clean up some, but that didn't hide Jim's bruises or the bags under Uhura's eyes.

Spock, of course, ignored him. He activated the comm on the captain's chair. "Mr. Scott, status?"'

_"The shield modifications are coming along, Commander, but I'm going to need at least another hour."_

"Acknowledged." Spock turned next to communications. "Lieutenant Garg, estimated time to reestablishing contact with Biva?"

"Nineteen minutes, sir."

On the surface, Kirk and the others didn't have that long, let alone time for Spock to explain the situation to a dozen government busybodies. Jim's plan was for once less insane than usual, but they had to put it in motion now to pull it off.

Spock thought it over for about three seconds. "Lieutenant, send the prepared report with our apologies at that time. Lieutenant Hannity, status of the collector?"

"Stabilized, sir. Doctor Osar has repositioned it and begun to bleed off energy, but the magnetic fields are still fluctuating. Simulations continue to predict shield failure."

"The power plant remains offline," added Hadley. "They're trying to boost the backup shield generator with the power provided by the collector, but that will take time to set up."

"Understood. We will continue to prepare for evacuation." Spock glanced at McCoy who nodded because he'd already woken up extra emergency response teams and relayed the request to engineering for all transporter teams to stand by. They were cutting this too close for comfort.

"Sir, transmission from the Captain received. They're in position. I'll have the message ready in ten minutes."

Spock settled into the captain's chair, fingers steepled. McCoy drifted closer, the better to mutter about the foolhardiness of starting fires in perfectly good buildings without disturbing the rest of the bridge crew.

"It's a clever plan, I'll give him that, but Jim's not exactly good at subtle." Except when he was, but McCoy didn't say that out loud. He was tired and seeing Jim had only reinforced how long everyone had been awake coping with this mess. Complaining gave him something other than the stats on sleep deprivation and decision making to focus on.

"It will work, Doctor," said Spock calmly. He was awake and functioning just fine. "The odds are in our favor."

"You sure you're feeling all right? You dropped a few decimal places."

"A 64.238% chance of success."

"That's it?" Several heads turned at the outburst. McCoy lowered his head and tried without much success for a whisper. "Little more than a coin toss?"

"I should think that such odds would be reassuring considering the normal obstacles we face." Put that way, McCoy did feel reassured. There was a reason he didn't usually ask Spock the odds. Unless he factored in the crew in one of his creative ways, his pretty numbers were less useful than a weather forecast.

"Sir," Lieutenant Garg chirped. "It's ready."

"Send the message. Loop until we receive a response," Spock ordered.

On the secondary view screen the face of the captain of the Bivan supply ship popped up. Remixed and remastered, he calmly requested contact with the Municipal Administrator. They were in orbit and prepared to take on passengers.

Garg killed the audio after the second loop. McCoy started pacing since Spock was sitting still for once tonight and he felt like one of them should be moving around. McCoy should have been better at waiting by now, but he never got used to it. The crew looked up when he passed but otherwise were as quiet as Spock while they waited. They'd been on duty far longer than they should have been, Beta team members hanging on through Gamma while their replacements worked support.

"Sir!" Garg pressed his hand to his earpiece. "Receiving a message from the outpost." On screen, a Bivan McCoy didn't recognize appeared speaking quickly and sharply.

_"Captain! You are late."_

"Our delay was unfortunate, Administrator Sifo. We are prepared for the passengers," said Garg's canned image.

Sifo did not look pleased, but he did look like he was buying it. "We will be prepared for beam out in twenty minutes."

McCoy held his breath through the rest of the exchange, each transmission feeling like it was going to be the one that blew this whole thing out in the open. But then Sifo was signing off. Everyone on the bridge let out a collective breath.

"Spock to Security." Spock stood, his voice carrying over the smiles and chatter. "Please send two security teams to the transporter room."

Twenty minutes later, McCoy stood behind Spock and security while the Bivan dissident and their hostages were beamed aboard.

* * *

When word came from the _Enterprise_ that it had worked, they had the dissidents in custody and the hostages safe, the tension that had been building in the tiny communications room disappeared. Sulu let out a breath and a laugh, the whole night's urgency melting away. Until Kirk clapped his hands together and said, "Okay, people. Time to get this place evacuated."

The other half of Spock's report had been brief and to the point: Scotty had diverted the storm a little but not enough to prevent the shield from failing. It would be there in a little over three hours.

Organizing the evacuation of a thousand people in a state of emergency was no piece of cake. Director Vilena was the first person beamed back to the surface from the _Enterprise_. Watching her coordinate her people was a sight to behold.

Lieutenant Hobbes and a full security team beamed down with her. The first thing he did was give the Captain a new communicator. "We juiced them up for you," he said, handing three others to Sulu, Uhura, and Chekov.

Uhura's grin was as bright as the sunrise edging over the horizon.

Kirk sent her to help with the scientists in the auxiliary building. Sulu and Chekov he sent to Collector Control and the power plant respectively. Both places had already received Vilena's initial evacuation order from the _Enterprise_, so there were few arguments.

Osar shook her head when she saw him. "We have done all that we can from here," she said. "It should be enough to survive the storm." Sulu hoped she was right.

Group by group, the _Enterprise_ beamed Iogarth's inhabitants aboard. Sulu ended up helping coordinate people into the transporter station. He kept checking the time and looking at the crowd, wondering how they were going to move so many people in so short a time.

"That's everyone from the main outpost," Uhura told him, rushing in about half way through. "Do you know where the Captain is?"

"Somewhere outside with Vilena, I think." Sulu pointed vaguely. "Any idea when the people from the power plant will get here?"

Uhura was already moving toward the door. "The trucks just started rolling in," she said over her shoulder.

Sure enough, by the time the last group from the main outpost was beamed up, the Bivans from the power plant were waiting in line.

"Hi." Chekov smiled tentatively when he came in. He was out of breath but looked bright and hopeful and so damned good. "The last truck has arrived. We are cutting it close, but we should make it."

Fifty minutes to spare. Sulu grinned back, finally able to let go of the night behind them. "Hey. You want to get breakfast when we get back?"

The last of the hesitance fell away from Chekov's face. "Yes. I would like that," he said.

"Good. Better go round up the Captain." Chekov sketched a quick salute and was off. Sulu watched him go, finally feeling like they were going to be all right.

He went back to work. Thirty minutes until the storm hit, he turned around and the only people left were Director Vilena and her aides and members of the _Enterprise_ crew. They moved onto the transport pads.

Kirk flipped open his communicator. "Scotty, last group standing by. Beam us up."

* * *


End file.
